JOVE    (JUPITER). 
Museum  at  Naples.     Excavated  from  Pompeii  in  1818. 


BULFINCH'S 

MYTHOLOGY 


of  jfable 
Hge  of  Cfritmlrp 
Hegenbg  of  Cijarlemagne 


BY 

THOMAS   BULFINCH 


COMPLETE  IN  ONE  VOLUME 


REVISED    AND    ENLARGED,    WITH    ILLUSTRATIONS 


NEW  YORYC 

THOMAS    Y.    CRO;>yr.LI,    CQjVHy\NT-Y,, 
PUBLISHERS 


pGPYRIGHt/J.913, 

,Y;  CROWfcLL  COMPANY. 


PUBLISHERS'    PREFACE 


No  new  edition  of  Bulfinch's  classic  work  can  be  con 
sidered  complete  without  some  notice  of  the  American 
scholar  to  whose  wide  erudition  and  painstaking  care 
it  stands  as  a  perpetual  monument.  "The  Age  of  Fable" 
has  come  to  be  ranked  with  older  books  like  "Pilgrim's 
Progress,"  "Gulliver's  Travels,"  "The  Arabian  Nights," 
"Robinson  Crusoe,"  and  five  or  six  other  productions  of 
world-wide  renown  as  a  work  with  which  every  one 
must  claim  some  acquaintance  before  his  education  can 
be  called  really  complete.  Many  readers  of  the  present 
edition  will  probably  recall  coming  in  contact  with  the 
work  as  children,  and,  it  may  be  added,  will  no  doubt 
discover  from  a  fresh  perusal  the  source  of  numerous 
bits  of  knowledge  that  have  remained  stored  in  their 
minds  since  those  early  years.  Yet  to  the  majority  of 
this  'great  circle  of  readers  and  students  the  name  Bui- 
finch  in  itself  has  no  significance. 

Thomas  Bulfinch  was  a  native  of  Boston,  Mass.,  where 
he  was  born  in  1796.  His  boyhood  was  spent  in  that 
city,  and  he  prepared  for  college  in  the  Boston  schools. 
He  finished  his  scholastic  training  at  Harvard  College, 
and  after  taking  his  degree  was  for  a  period  a  teacher 
in  his  home  city.  For  a  long  time  later  in  life  he  was 
employed  as  an  accountant  in  the  Boston  Merchants' 
Bank.  His  leisure  time  he  used  for  further  pursuit  of 
the  classical  studies  which  he  had  begun  at  Harvard, 
and  his  chief  pleasure  in  life  lay  in  writing  out  the  re 
sults  of  his  reading,  in  simple,  condensed  form  for  young 
or  busy  readers.  The  plan  he  followed  in  this  work,  to 
give  it  the  greatest  possible  usefulness,  is  set  forth  in 
the  Author's  Preface. 

Bulfinch  died  in  1867,  with  the  following  list  of  books 
to  his  credit:  "Hebrew  Lyrical  History,"  1853;  "The 

ill 


297658 


iv  PUBLISHERS'  PREFACE 

Age  of  Fable,"  First  Edition,  1855 ;  "The  Age  of  Chiv 
alry,"  1858;  "The  Boy  Inventor,"  1860;  "Legends  of 
Charlemagne,  or  Romance  of  the  Middle  Ages,"  1863; 
"Poetry  of  the  Age  of  Fable,"  1863 ;  "Oregon  and  El 
dorado,  or  Romance  of  the  Rivers,"  1860. 

In  this  complete  edition  of  his  mythological  and  leg 
endary  lore  "The  Age  of  Fable,"  "The  Age  of  Chivalry," 
and  "Legends  of  Charlemagne"  are  included.  Scrupulous 
care  has  been  taken  to  follow  the  original  text  of  Bui- 
finch,  but  attention  should  be  called  to  some  additional 
sections  which  have  been  inserted  to  add  to  the  rounded 
completeness  of  the  work,  and  which  the  publishers  be 
lieve  would  meet  with  the  sanction  of  the  a'uthor  him 
self,  as  in  no  way  intruding  upon  his  original  plan  but 
simply  carrying  it  out  in  more  complete  detail.  The 
section  on  Northern  Mythology  has  been  enlarged  by  a 
retelling  of  the  epic  of  the  "Nibelungen  Lied,"  together 
with  a  summary  of  Wagner's  version  of  the  legend  in 
his  series  of  music-dramas.  Under  the  head  of  "Hero 
Myths  of  the  British  Race"  have  been  included  out 
lines  of  the  stories  of  Beowulf,  Cuchulain,  Hereward 
the  Wake,  and  Robin  .Hood.  Of  the  verse  extracts 
which  occur  throughout  the  text,  thirty  or  more  have 
been  added  from  literature  which  has  appeared  since 
Bulfinch's  time,  extracts  that  he  would  have  been  likely 
to  quote  had  he  personally  supervised  the  new  edition. 

Finally,  the  index  has  been  thoroughly  overhauled  and, 
indeed,  remade.  All  the  proper  names  in  the  work 
have  been  entered,  with  references  to  the  pages  where 
they  occur,  and  a  concise  explanation  or  definition  of 
each  has  been  given.  Thus  what  was  a  mere  list  of 
names  in  the  original  has  been  enlarged  into  a  small 
classical  and  mythological  dictionary,  which  it  is  hoped 
will  prove  valuable  for  reference  purposes  not  necessar 
ily  connected  with  "The  Age  of  Fable." 

Acknowledgments  are  due  the  writings  of  Dr.  Oliver 
Huckel  for  information  on  the  point  of  Wagner's  ren 
dering  of  the  Nibelungen  legend,  and  M.  I.  Ebbutt's 
authoritative  volume  on  "Hero  Myths  and  Legends 
of  the  British  Race,"  from  which  much  of  the  informa 
tion  concerning  the  British  heroes  has  been  obtained. 


THE 


AGE   OF  CHIVALEY 


LEGENDS  OF  KING  AETHUR 


"KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS"     "THE  MABINOGEOtf ' 
"THE  CRUSADES"     "ROBIN  HOOD"    ETC. 

BY 

THOMAS   BULFINCH 


A  NEW  ENLARGED  AND  REVISED  EDITION 
EDITED  BY  E.  E.  HALE 


Throngs  of  knights  and  barons  bold, 


In  weeds  of  peace  high  triumphs  hold, 


BOSTON 
S.  W.  TILTON  &  CO.  PUBLISHERS 

BOSTON    LEE   AND    SHEPARD.      NEW   YORK   C.   T.    D1LLINGIIAM 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1858,  by 


THOMAS   BULFINCH 


In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1884,  by 

S.    W.    TILTON, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


PREFACE, 


IN  a  former  work  the  compiler  of  this  volume  endeavored  to 
impart  the  pleasures  of  classical  learning  to  the  English 
reader,  by  presenting  the  stories  of  Pagan  mythology  in 
a  form  adapted  to  modern  taste.  In  the  present  volume  the 
attempt  has  been  made  to  treat  in  the  same  way  the  stories 
of  the  second  "  age  of  fable,"  the  age  which  witnessed  the 
dawn  of  the  several  states  of  Modern  Europe. 

It  is  believed  that  this  presentation  of  a  literature  which  held 
unrivalled  sway  over  the  imaginations  of  our  ancestors,  for  many 
centuries,  will  not  be  without  benefit  to  the  reader,  in  addition 
to  the  amusement  it  may  afford.  The  tales,  though  not  to  be 
trusted  for  their  facts,  are  worthy  of  all  credit  as  pictures  of 
manners ;  and  it  is  beginning  to  be  held  that  the  manners  and 
modes  of  thinking  of  an  age  are  a  more  important  part  of  its 
history  than  the  conflicts  of  its  peoples,  generally  leading  to 
no  result.  Besides  this,  the  literature  of  romance  is  a  treasure- 
house  of  poetical  material,  to  which  modern  poets  frequently 
resort.  The  Italian  poets,  Dante  and  Ariosto,  the  English, 
Spenser,  Scott,  and  Tennyson,  and  our  own  Longfellow  and 
Lowell,  are  examples  of  this. 

These  legends  are  so  connected  with  each  other,  so  consist 
ently  adapted  to  a  group  of  characters  strongly  individualized 
in  Arthur,  Launcelot,  and  their  compeers,  and  so  lighted  up  by 
the  fires  of  imagination  and  invention,  that  they  seem  as  well 
adapted  to  the  poet's  purpose  as  the  legends  of  the  Greek  and 
Roman  mythology.  And  if  every  well-educated  young  person 
is  expected  to  know  the  story  of  the  Golden  Fleece,  why  is  the 

5 


6  PREFACE. 

quest  of  the  Sangreal  less  worthy  of  his  acquaintance  ?  Or  if 
an  allusion  to  the  shield  of  Achilles  ought  not  to  pass  unap- 
prehended,  why  should  one  to  Escalibar,  the  famous  sword  of 
Arthur :  — 

"  Of  Arthur,  who,  to  upper  light  restored, 
With  that  terrific  sword, 
Which  yet  he  brandishes  for  future  war, 
Shall  lift  his  country's  fame  above  the  polar  star  r  "  * 

It  is  an  additional  recommendation  of  our  subject,  that  it 
tends  to  cherish  in  our  minds  the  idea  of  the  source  from  which 
we  sprung.  We  are  entitled  to  our  full  share  in  the  glories 
and  recollections  of  the  land  of  our  forefathers,  down  to  the 
time  of  colonization  thence.  The  associations  which  spring 
from  this  source  must  be  fruitful  of  good  influences ;  among 
which  not  the  least  valuable  is  the  increased  enjoyment  which 
such  associations  afford  to  the  American  traveller  when  he 
visits  England,  and  sets  his  foot  upon  any  of  her  renowned 
localities. 

The  readers  of  Tennyson  are  invited  to  peruse  in  these 
legends  the  originals  of  those  stories  which  the  poet  has  clothed 
in  the  drapery  of  verse,  and  given  to  the  public  in  his  "  Idylls 
of  the  King,"  and  in  shorter  poems.  Perhaps  some  of  them 
may  be  found  more  intelligible  for  our  plain  narrative  of  the 

same  events. 

THOMAS  BULFINCH. 
BOSTON,  1858. 


The  late  Mr.  Bulfinch  thus  explained  the  work  he  had  in 
hand  when  the  first  edition  of  this  book  was  published,  in  the 
year  1858.  So  much  attention  has  been  given  in  England  and 
America  since  that  time  to  the  legends  of  which  he  speaks  that 
such  an  apology  as  he  makes  for  his  admirable  versions  of 
them  now  seems  quite  unnecessary.  The  popularity  which  Mr. 
Bulfinch's  versions  of  the  "Stories  of  the  Round  Table"  at 
once  attained  has  demanded  several  repeated  editions  of  his 
book. 

*  Wordsworth. 


PREFACE.  7 

In  this  edition  the  book  has  been  materially  enlarged  in  one 
or  two  directions.  Since  Mr.  Bulfinch  wrote,  Mr.  Tennyson, 
who  has  drawn  so  largely  on  these  legends,  has  published  seve 
ral  additional  "  Idylls  of  the  King,"  from  which  I  have  added 
some  illustrations.  I  have  also  taken  advantage  of  the  greater 
space  to  retain  the  original  language  of  Sir  Thomas  Mallory 
in  many  of  the  stories  where  Mr.  Bulfinch  thought  it  neces 
sary  to  abridge,  and  I  have  inserted  one  or  two  new  stories 
from  the  "  Mabinogeon."  And  lastly,  I  have  added  several 
new  chapters,  with  a  view  of  showing  what  the  Age  of  Chiv 
alry  was  in  English  history  as  a  means  of  illustration  of  the 
tales  of  the  Knights  of  King  Arthur's  time.  For  this  purpose  I 
have  drawn  upon  Froissart  and  any  other  ancient  chroniclers 
whose  narratives  seemed  to  suit  my  purpose,  as  well  as  upon 
Bishop  Percy's  collection  of  old  English  ballads  and  Ritson's 
ballads  on  Robin  Hood.  I  have  hoped  that  young  readers 
who  see  the  freshness  and  spirit  of  Froissart  and  the  others 
may  thus  be  induced  to  study  history  in  the  originals  rather 
than  be  satisfied  with  the  limping  compilations  and  abridg 
ments  of  modern  writers. 

EDWARD  E.  HALE, 

BOSTON,  August  9,  1883. 


.  CONTENTS. 


Part  3E. 


KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

Chapter  Page 

I.    INTRODUCTION 13 

II.    THE  MYTHICAL  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND 27 

III.  ARTHUR 38 

IV.  CARADOC  BRIEFBRAS 63 

V.    SIR  GAWAIN 70 

VI.    LAUNCELOT  OF  THE  LAKE 74 

VII.  THE  STORY  OF  LAUNCELOT  :  THE  ADVENTURE  OF  THE  CART  .  86 

VIII.  THE  STORY  OF  LAUNCELOT:  THE  LADY  OF  SHALOTT       .        .  95 

IX.  THE  STORY  OF  LAUNCELOT:   QUEEN  GUENEVER'S  PERIL         .  101 

X.    THE  STORY  OF  TRISTRAM  OF  LYONESSE 106 

XL    TRISTRAM  AND  ISOUDE 115 

XII.    THE  STORY  OF  TRISTRAM       . 123 

XIII.  THE  END  OF  THE  STORY  OF  TRISTRAM 131 

XIV.  THE  STORY  OF  PERCEVAL 139 

XV.    THE  QUEST  OF  THE  SANGREAL 148 

XVI.    THE  END  OF  THE  QUEST 160 

XVII.    SIR  AGRIVAIN'S  TREASON 174 

XVIII.  MORTE  D'ARTHUR    .                                                                        .  182 


Part  3131. 

THE  MABINOGEON. 

XIX.    THE  BRITONS 195 

XX.    THE  LADY  OF  THE  FOUNTAIN 200 

XXI.    THE  LADY  OF  THE  FOUNTAIN  (continued] 206 

XXII.    THE  LADY  OF  THE  FOUNTAIN  (continued) 214 

9 


10 


CONTENTS. 


Chapter  Page 

XXIII.  GERAINT,  THE  SON  OF  ERBIN 222 

XXIV.  GERAINT,  THE  SON  OF  ERBIN  (continued')      ....    233 
XXV.    GERAINT,  THE  SON  OF  ERBIN  (continued)      .        .        .        .241 

XXVI.  -PWYLL,  PRINCE  OF  DYVED 252 

XXVII.  .BRANWEN,  THE  DAUGHTER  OF  LLYR, 259 

XXVIII.  -MANAWYDDAN 268 

XXIX. "  KILWICH  AND  OLWEN        .  279 

XXX.    KILWICH  AND  OLWEN  (continued) 291 

XXXI.    PEREDUR,  THE  SON  OF  EVRAWC 298 

XXXII.  V.TALIESIN  .    ' ...    308 


3E3E3E. 


THE  KNIGHTS  OF  ENGLISH  HISTORY. 


XXXIII.  KING  RICHARD  AND  THE  THIRD  CRUSADE 

XXXIV.  ROBIN  HOOD  OF  SHERWOOD  FOREST      . 
XXXV.  ROBIN  HOOD  AND  HIS  ADVENTURES 

XXXVI.  CHEVY  CHASE 

XXXVII.  THE  BATTLE  OF  OTTERBOURNE 

XXXVIII.  EDWARD  THE  BLACK  PRINCE    . 


343 
353 
362 
370 
380 


TO 


MRS.  JOSEPH   COOLIDGE. 


DEAR  MADAM,— 

To  you,  who  have  sympathized  in  my  tastes,  and  encouraged 
my  researches,  I  dedicate  this  attempt  to  depict  the  age  of  chivalry, 
and  to  revive  the  legends  of  the  land  of  our  fathers. 

Your  friend  and  cousin, 

T.  B. 


THE   AGE    OF    CHIVALEY. 


PART    I, 
KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS, 


KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 


INTRODUCTION. 

ON  the  decline  of  the  Roman  power,  about  five  centuries 
after  Christ,  the  countries  of  Northern  Europe  were  left 
almost  destitute  of  a  national  government.  Numerous  chiefs, 
more  or  less  powerful,  held  local  sway,  as  far  as  each  could 
enforce  his  dominion,  and  occasionally  those  chiefs  would  unite 
for  a  common  object ;  but,  in  ordinary  times,  they  were  much 
more  likely  to  be  found  in  hostility  to  one  another.  In  such 
a  state  of  things,  the  rights  of  the  humbler  classes  of  society 
were  at  the  mercy  of  every  assailant;  and  it  is  plain  that, 
without  some  check  upon  the  lawless  power  of  the  chiefs, 
society  must  have  relapsed  into  barbarism.  Such  checks  were 
found,  first,  in  the  rivalry  of  the  chiefs  themselves,  whose  mu 
tual  jealousy  made  them  restraints  upon  one  another ;  secondly, 
in  the  influence  of  the  Church,  which,  by  every  motive,  pure 

13 


14  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

or  selfish,  was  pledged  to  interpose  for  the  protection  of  the 
weak ;  and  lastly,  in  the  generosity  and  sense  of  right  which, 
however  crushed  under  the  weight  of  passion  and  selfishness, 
dwell  naturally  in  the  heart  of  man.  From  this  last  source 
sprang  Chivalry,  which  framed  an  ideal  of  the  heroic  character, 
combining  invincible  strength  and  valor,  justice,  modesty, 
loyalty  to  superiors,  courtesy  to  equals,  compassion  to  weakness, 
and  devotedness  to  the  Church ;  an  ideal  which,  if  never  met 
with  in  real  life,  was  acknowledged  by  all  as  the  highest  model 
for  emulation. 

The  word  Chivalry  is  derived  from  the  French  cheval,  a  horse. 
The  word  knight,  which  originally  meant  boy  or  servant,  was 
particularly  applied  to  a  young  man  after  he  was  admitted  to 
the  privilege  of  bearing  arms.  This  privilege  was  conferred  on 
youths  of  family  and  fortune  only,  for  the  mass  of  the  people 
were  not  furnished  with  arms.  The  knight  then  was  a  mounted 
warrior,  a  man  of  rank,  or  in  the  service  and  maintenance  of 
some  man  of  rank,  generally  possessing  some  independent  means 
of  support,  but  often  relying  mainly  on  the  gratitude  of  those 
whom  he  served  for  the  supply  of  his  wants,  and  often,  no 
doubt,  resorting  to  the  means  which  power  confers  on  its 
possessor. 

In  time  of  Avar  the  knight  was,  with  his  followers,  in  the 
camp  of  his  sovereign,  or  commanding  in  the  field,  or  holding 
some  castle  for  him.  In  time  of  peace  he  was  often  in  attend 
ance  at  his  sovereign's  court,  gracing  with  his  presence  the 
banquets  and  tournaments  with  which  princes  cheered  their 
leisure.  Or  he  was  traversing  the  country  in  quest  of  adventure, 
professedly  bent  on  redressing  wrongs  and  enforcing  rights, 
sometimes  in  fulfilment  of  some  vow  of  religion  or  of  love. 
These  wandering  knights  were  called  knights-errant ;  they  were 
welcome  guests  in  the  castles  of  the  nobility,  for  their  presence 
enlivened  the  dulness  of  those  secluded  abodes,  and  they  were 
received  with  honor  at  the  abbeys,  which  often  owed  the  best 
part  of  their  revenues  to  the  patronage  of  the  knights  ;  but  if 
no  castle  or  abbey  or  hermitage  were  at  hand,  their  hardy  habits 
made  it  not  intolerable  to  them  to  lie  down,  supperless,  at  the 
foot  of  some  wayside  cross,  and  pass  the  night. 


INTRODUCTION.  15 

It  is  evident  that  the  justice  administered  by  such  an  instru 
mentality  must  have  been  of  the  rudest  description.  The  force 
whose  legitimate  purpose  was  to  redress  wrongs,  might  easily 
be  perverted  to  inflict  them.  Accordingly,  we  find  in  the 
romances,  which,  however  fabulous  in  facts,  are  true  as  pic 
tures  of  manners,  that  a  knightly  castle  was  often  a  terror  to  the 
surrounding  country  ;  that  its  dungeons  were  full  of  oppressed 
knights  and  ladies,  waiting  for  some  champion  to  appeav  to  set 
them  free,  or  to  be  ransomed  with  money  ;  that  hosts  of  idle 
retainers  were  ever  at  hand  to  enforce  their  lord's  behests, 
regardless  of  law  and  justice;  and  that  the  rights  of  the  un 
armed  multitude  were  of  no  account.  This  contrariety  of  fact 
and  theory  in  regard  to  chivalry  will  account  for  the  opposite 
impressions  which  exist  in  men's  minds  respecting  it.  While 
it  has  been  the  theme  of  the  most  fervid  eulogium  on  the  one 
part,  it  has  been  as  eagerly  denounced  on  the  other.  On  a  cool 
estimate,  we  cannot  but  see  reason  to  congratulate  ourselves 
that  it  has  given  way  in  modern  times  to  the  reign  of  law,  and 
that  the  civil  magistrate,  if  less  picturesque,  has  taken  the  place 
of  the  mailed  champion. 

THE  TRAINING  OF  A  KNIGHT. 

The  preparatory  education  of  candidates  for  knighthood  was 
long  and  arduous.  At  seven  years  of  age  the  noble  children 
were  usually  removed  from  their  father's  house  to  the  court  or 
castle  of  their  future  patron,  and  placed  under  the  care  of  a 
governor,  who  taught  them  the  first  articles  of  religion,  and 
respect  and  reverence  for  their  lords  and  superiors,  and  initiated 
them  in  the  ceremonies  of  a  court.  They  were  called  pages, 
valets  or  varlets,  and  their  office  was  to  carve,  to  wait  at  table, 
and  to  perform  other  menial  services,  which  were  not  then 
considered  humiliating.  In  their  leisure  hours  they  learned  to 
dance  and  play  on  the  harp,  were  instructed  in  the  mysteries 
of  woods  and  rivers,  that  is,  in  hunting,  falconry,  and  fishing, 
and  in  wrestling,  tilting  with  spears,  and  performing  other 
military  exercises  on  horseback.  At  fourteen  the  page  became 
an  esquire,  and  began  a  course  of  severer  and  more  laborious 


16  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

exercises.  To  vault  on  a  horse  in  heavy  armor  ;  to  run,  to  scale 
walls,  and  spring  over  ditches,  under  the  same  encumbrance; 
to  wrestle,  to  wield  the  battle-axe  for  a  length  of  time,  without 
raising  the  visor  or  taking  breath ;  to  perform  with  grace  all 
the  evolutions  of  horsemanship,  —  were  necessary  preliminaries 
to  the  reception  of  knighthood,  which  was  usually  conferred  at 
twenty-one  years  of  age,  when  the  young  man's  education  was 
supposed  to  be  completed.  In  the  mean  time,  the  esquires 
were  no  less  assiduously  engaged  in  acquiring  all  those  refine 
ments  of  civilitv  which"  formed  what  was  in  that  ao-e  called 

•/  C5 

courtesy.  The  same  castle  in  which  they  received  their  educa 
tion  was  usually  thronged  with  young  persons  of  the  other  sex, 
and  the  page  was  encouraged,  at  a  very  early  age,  to  select 
some  lady  of  the  court  as  the  mistress  of  his  heart,  to  whom 
he  was  taught  to  refer  all  his  sentiments,  words,  and  actions. 
The  service  of  his  mistress  was  the  glory  and  occupation  of  a 
knight,  and  her  smiles,  bestowed  at  once  by  affection  and  grati 
tude,  wrere  held  out  as  the  recompense  of  his  well-directed 
Valor.  Religion  united  its  influence  with  those  of  loyalty  and 
love,  and  the  order  of  knighthood,  endowed  with  all  the  sanc 
tity  and  religious  awe  that  attended  the  priesthood,  became  an 
object  of  ambition  to  the  greatest  sovereigns. 

The  ceremonies  of  initiation  were  peculiarly  solemn.  After 
undergoing  a  severe  fast,  and"  spending  whole  nights  in  prayer, 
the  candidate  confessed,  and  received  the  sacrament.  He  then 
clothed  himself  in  snow-white  garments,  and  repaired  to  the 
church,  or  the  hall,  where  the  ceremony  was  to  take  place, 
bearing  a  knightly  sword  suspended  from  his  neck,  which  the 
officiating  priest  took  and  blessed,  and  then  returned  to  him. 
The  candidate  then,  with  folded  arms,  knelt  before  the  presiding 
knight,  who,  after  some  questions  about  his  motives  and  purposes 
in  requesting  admission,  administered  to  him  the  oaths,  and 
granted  his  request.  Some  of  the  knights  present,  sometimes 
even  ladies  and  damsels,  handed  to  him  in  succession  the  spurs, 
the  coat  of  mail,  the  hauberk,  the  armlet  and  gauntlet,  and 
lastly  he  girded  on  the  sword.  He  then  knelt  again  before  the 
president,  who,  rising  from  his  seat,  gave  him  the  "accolade," 
which  consisted  of  three  strokes,  with  the  flat  of  a  sword,  on 


INTRODUCTION.  17 

the  shoulder  or  neck  of  the  candidate,  accompanied  by  the 
words  :  "  In  the  name  of  God,  of  St.  Michael,  and  St.  George, 
I  make  thee  a  knight ;  be  valiant,  courteous,  and  loyal !  "  Then 
he  received  his  helmet,  his  shield,  and  spear;  and  thus  the 
investiture  ended. 


FREEMEN,  VILLAINS,  SERFS,  AND  CLERKS. 

The  other  classes  of  which  society  was  composed  were,  first, 
freemen,  owners  of  small  portions  of  land,  independent,  though 
they  sometimes  voluntarily  became  the  vassals  of  their  more 
opulent  neighbors,  whose  power  was  necessary  for  their  protec 
tion.  The  other  two  classes,  which  were  much  the  most 
numerous,  were  either  serfs  or  villains,  both  of  which  were 
slaves. 

The  serfs  were  in  the  lowest  state  of  slavery.  All  the  fruits 
of  their  labor  belonged  to  the  master  whose  land  they  tilled, 
and  by  whom  they  were  fed  and  clothed. 

The  villains  wer^  less  degraded.  Their  situation  seems  to 
have  resembled  that  of  the  Russian  peasants  at  this  day.  Like 
the  serfs,  they  were  attached  to  the  soil,  and  were  transferred 
with  it  by  purchase;  but  they  paid  only  a  fixed  rent  to  the 
landlord,  and  had  a  right  to  dispose  of  any  surplus  that  might 
arise  from  their  industry. 

The  term  clerk  was  of  very  extensive  import.  It  compre 
hended,  originally,  such  persons  only  as  belonged  to  the  clergy, 
or  clerical  order,  among  whom,  however,  might  be  found  a 
multitude  of  married  persons,  artisans  or  others.  But  in 
process  of  time  a  much  wider  rule  was  established  ;  every  one 
that  could  read  being  accounted  a  clerk,  or  dericus,  and  allowed 
the  "benefit  of  clergy,"  that  is,  exemption  from  capital  and 
some  other  forms  of  punishment,  in  case  of  crime. 

TOURNAMENTS. 

The  splendid  pageant  of  a  tournament  between  knights,  its 
gaudy  accessories  and  trappings,  and  its  chivalrous  regulations, 
originated  in  France.  Tournaments  were  repeatedly  con- 


18  KING   ARTHUR   AND   HIS    KNIGHTS. 

demned  by  the  Church,  probably  on  account  of  the  quarrels 
they  led  to,  and  the  often  fatal  results.  The  "  joust,"  or  "  just," 
was  different  from  the  tournament.  In  these,  knights  fought 
with  their  lances,  and  their  object  was  to  unhorse  their  antago 
nists;  while  the  tournaments  were  intended  for  a  display  of 
skill  and  address  in  evolutions,  and  with  various  weapons,  and 
greater  courtesy  was  observed  in  the  regulations.  By  these  it 
was  forbidden  to  wound  the  horse,  or  to  use  the  point  of  the 
sword,  or  to  strike  a  knight  after  he  had  raised  his  visor,  or 
unlaced  his  helmet.  The  ladies  encouraged  their  knights 
in  these  exercises ;  they  bestowed  prizes,  and  the  conqueror's 
feats  were  the  theme  of  romance  and  song.  The  stands  over 
looking  the  ground,  or  course,  were  varied  in  the  shapes  of 
towers,  terraces,  galleries,  and  pensile  gardens,  magnificently 
decorated  with  tapestry,  pavilions,  and  banners.  Every 
combatant  proclaimed  the  name  of  the  lady  whose  servant 
d^amour  he  was.  He  was  wont  to  look  up  to  the  stand,  and 
strengthen  his  courage  by  the  sight  of  the  bright  eyes  that  were 
raining  their  influence  on  him  from  above.  The  knights  also 
carried  favors,  consisting  of  scarfs,  veils,  sleeves,  bracelets, 
clasps,  —  in  short,  some  piece  of  female  habiliment,  —  attached 
to  their  helmets,  shields,  or  armor.  If,  during  the  combat,  any 
of  these  appendages  were  dropped  or  lost,  the  fair  donor  would 
at  times  send  her  knight  new  ones,  especially  if  pleased  with 
his  exertions. 

MAIL  ARMOR. 

Mail  armor,  of  which  the  hauberk  is  a  species,  and  which 
derived  its  name  from  maille,  a  French  word  for  mesh,  was  of 
two  kinds,  plate  or  scale  mail,  and  chain  mail.  It  was  originally 
used  for  the  protection  of  the  body  only,  reaching  no  lower 
than  the  knees.  It  was  shaped  like  a  carter's  frock,  and  bound 
round  the  waist  by  a  girdle.  Gloves  and  hose  of  mail  were 
afterwards  added,  and  a  hood,  which,  when  necessary,  wns 
drawn  over  the  head,  leaving  the  face  alone  uncovered.  To 
protect  the  skin  from  the  impression  of  the  iron  network  of 
the  chain  mail,  a  quilted  lining  was  employed,  which,  however, 


INTRODUCTION.  19 

was  insufficient,  and  the  bath  was  used  to  efface  the  marks  of 
the  armor. 

The  hauberk  was  a  complete  covering  of  double  chain  mail. 
Some  hauberks  opened  before,  like  a  modern  coat ;  others  were 
closed  like  a  shirt. 

The  chain  mail  of  which*  they  were  composed  was  formed  by 
a  number  of  iron  links,  each  link  having  others  inserted  into  it, 
the  whole  exhibiting  a  kind  of  network,  of  which  (in  some 
instances  at  least)  the  meshes  were  circular,  with  each  link 
separately  riveted. 

The  hauberk  was  proof  against  the  most  violent  blow  of  a 
sword  ;  but  the  point  of  a  lance  might  pass  through  the  meshes, 
or  drive  the  iron  into  the  flesh.  To  guard  against  this,  a  thick 
and  well-stuffed  doublet  was  worn  underneath,  under  which 
was  commonly  added  an  iron  breastplate.  Hence  the  expres 
sion  "  to  pierce  both  plate  and  mail,"  so  common  in  the  earlier 
poets. 

Mail  armor  continued  in  general  use  till  about  the  year  1300, 
when  it  was  gradually  supplanted  by  plate  armor,  or  suits 
consisting  of  pieces  or  plates  of  solid  iron,  adapted  to  the 
different  parts  of  the  body. 

Shields  were  generally  made  of  wood,  covered  with  leather, 
or  some  similar  substance.  To  secure  them,  in  some  sort,  from 
being  cut  through  by  the  sword,  they  were  surrounded  with  a 
hoop  of  metal. 

HELMETS. 

The  helmet  was  composed  of  two  parts  ;  the  headpiece,  which 
was  strengthened  within  by  several  circles  of  iron  ;  and  the 
visor,  which,  as  the  name  implies,  was  a  sort  of  grating  to  see 
through,  so  contrived  as,  by  sliding  in  a  groove,  or  turning  on  a 
pivot,  to  be  raised  or  lowered  at  pleasure.  Some  helmets  had 
a  further  improvement  called  a  bever,  from  the  Italian  bevere, 
to  drink.  The  ventayle,  or  "  air-passage,"  is  another  name  for 
this. 

To  secure  the  helmet  from  the  possibility  of  falling,  or  of 
being  struck  off,  it  was  tied  by  several  laces  to  the  meshes  of 


20  KING    ARTHUR   AND   HIS    KNIGHTS. 

the  hauberk ;  consequently,  when  a  knight  was  overthrown,  it 
was  necessary  to  undo  these  laces  before  he  could  be  put  to 
death;  though  this  was  sometimes  effected  by  lifting  up  the 
skirt  of  the  hauberk,  and  stabbing  him  in  the  belly.  The 
instrument  of  death  was  a  small  dagger,  worn  on  the  right 
side. 

ROMANCES. 

In  ages  when  there  were  no  books,  when  noblemen  and 
princes  themselves  could  not  read,  history  or  tradition  was 
monopolized  by  the  story-tellers.  They  inherited,  generation 
after  generation,  the  wondrous  tales  of  their  predecessors,  which 
they  retailed  to  the  public  with  such  additions  of  their  own  as 
their  acquired  information  supplied  them  with.  Anachronisms 
became  of  course  very  common,  and  errors  of  geography,  of 
locality,  of  manners,  equally  so.  Spurious  genealogies  were 
invented,  in  which  Arthur  and  his  knights,  and  Charlemagne 
and  his  paladins,  were  made  to  derive  their  descent  from 
^Eneas,  Hector,  or  some  other  of  the  Trojan  heroes. 

With  regard  to  the  derivation  of  the  word  Romance,  we 
trace  it  to  the  fact  that  the  dialects  which  were  formed  in 
Western  Europe,  from  the  admixture  of  Latin  with  the  native 
languages,  took  the  name  of  Langue  Jtomaine.  The  French 
language  was  divided  into  two  dialects.  The  river  Loire  was 
their  common  boundary.  In  the  provinces  to  the  south  of  that 
river  the  affirmative,  yes,  was  expressed  by  the  word  oc ;  in 
the  north  it  was  called  oil  (oui)  ;  and  hence  Dante  has  named 
the  southern  language  lanyue  cPoc,  and  the  northern  tongue 
(Toil.  The  latter,  which  was  carried  into  England  by  the  Nor 
mans,  and  is  the  origin  of  the  present  French,  may  be  called 
the  French  Romane ;  and  the  former  the  Provei^al,  or  Pro- 
vencial  Romane,  because  it  was  spoken  by  the  people  of  Pro 
vence  and  Languedoc,  southern  provinces  of  France. 

These  dialects  were  soon  distinguished  by  very  opposite 
characters.  A  soft  and  enervating  climate,  a  spirit  of  com 
merce  encouraged  by  an  easy  communication  with  other  mari 
time  nations,  the  influx  of  wealth,  and  a  more  settled  govern 
ment,  may  have  tended  to  polish  and  soften  the  diction  of  the 


INTRODUCTION.  21 

Provencials,  whose  poets,  under  the  name  of  Troubadours, 
were  the  masters  of  the  Italians,  and  particularly  of  Petrarch. 
Their  favorite  pieces  were  Sirventes  (satirical  pieces),  love- 
songs,  and  Tensons,  which  last  were  a  sort  of  dialogue  inverse 
between  two  poets,  who  questioned  each  other  on  some  refined 
points  of  love's  casuistry.  *It  seems  the  Provencials  were  so 
completely  absorbed  in  these  delicate  questions  as  to  neglect 
and  despise  the  composition  of  fabulous  histories  of  adventure 

r- a»d  knighthood,  which  they  left  in  a  great  measure  to  the 
poets  of  the  northern  part  of  the  kingdom,  called  Trouveurs. 
At  a  time  when  chivalry  excited  universal  admiration,  and 
when  all  the  efforts  of  that  chivalry  were  directed  against  the 
enemies  of  religion,  it  was  natural  that  literature  should  re 
ceive  the  same  impulse,  and  that  history  and  fable  should  be 
ransacked  to  furnish  examples  of  courage  and  piety  that  might 
excite  increased  emulation.  Arthur  and  Charlemagne  were 
the  two  heroes  selected  for  this  purpose.  Arthur's  pretensions 

_ jvere  that  he  was  a  brave,  though  not  always  a  successful  war 
rior;  he  had  withstood  with  great  resolution  the  arms  of  the 
infidels,  that  is  to  say  of  the  Saxons,  and  his  memory  was  held 
in  the  highest  estimation  by  his  countrymen,  the  Britons,  who 
carried  with  them  into  Wales,  and  into  the  kindred  country  of 
Armorica,  or  Brittany,  the  memory  of  his  exploits,  which  their 
national  vanity  insensibly  exaggerated,  till  the  little  prince  of 
the  Silures  (South  Wales)  was  magnified  into  the  conqueror  of 
England,  of  Gaul,  and  of  the  greater  part  of  Europe.  His 
genealogy  was  gradually  carried  up  to  an  imaginary  Briltus, 
and  to  the  period  of  the  Trojan  war,  and  a  sort  of  chronicle 
was  composed  in  the  Welsh,  or  Armorican  language,  which,  un 
der  the  pompous  title  of  the  History  of  the  Kings  of  Britain^ 
was  translated  into  Latin  by  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth,  about  the 
year  1150.  The  Welsh  critics  consider  the  material  of  the 
work  to  have  been  an  older  history,  written  by  St.  Talian, 
Bishop  of  St.  Asaph,  in  the  seventh  century. 

As  to  Charlemagne,  though  his  real  merits  were  sufficient  to 
secure  his  immortality,  it  was  impossible  that  his  holy  wars 
against  the  Saracens  should  not  become  a  favorite  topic  for 
fiction.  Accordingly,  the  fabulous  history  of  these  wars  was 


22  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

written,  probably  towards  the  close  of  the  eleventh  century,  by 
a  monk,  who,  thinking  it  would  add  dignity  to  his  work  to  em 
bellish  it  with  a  contemporary  name,  boldly  ascribed  it  to  Tur- 
pin,  who  was  Archbishop  of  Rheims  about  the  year  773. 

These  fabulous  chronicles  were  for  a  while  imprisoned  in 
languages  of  local  only  or  of  professional  access.  Both  Tur- 
pin  and  Geoffrey  might  indeed  be  read  by  ecclesiastics,  the 
sole  Latin  scholars  of  those  times,  and  Geoffrey's  British  origi 
nal  would  contribute  to  the  gratification  of  Welshmen ;  but 
neither  could  become  extensively  popular  till  translated  into 
some  language  of  general  and  familiar  use.  The  Anglo-Saxon 
was  at  that  time  used  only  by  a  conquered  and  enslaved  na 
tion;  the  Spanish  and  Italian  languages  were  not  yet  formed; 
the  Norman  French  alone  was  spoken  and  understood  by  the 
nobility  in  the  greater  part  of  Europe,  and  therefore  was  a 
proper  vehicle  for  the  new  mode  of  composition. 

That  language  was  fashionable  in  England  before  the  Con 
quest,  and  became,  after  that  event,  the  only  language  used  at 
the  court  of  London.  As  the  various  conquests  of  the  Nor 
mans,  and  the  enthusiastic  valor  of  that  extraordinary  people, 
had  familiarized  the  minds  of  men  with  the  most  marvellous 
events,  their  poets  eagerly  seized  the  fabulous  legends  of  Ar 
thur  and  Charlemagne,  translated  them  into  the  language  of 
the  day,  and  soon  produced  a  variety  of  imitations.  The  ad 
ventures  attributed  to  these  monarchs,  and  to  their  distin 
guished  warriors,  together  with  those  of  many  other  tradition 
ary  or  imaginary  heroes,  composed  by  degrees  that  formidable 
body  of  marvellous  histories  which,  from  the  dialect  in  which 
the  most  ancient  of  them  were  written,  were  called  Romances. 

METRICAL  ROMANCES. 

The  earliest  form  in  which  romances  appear  is  that  of  a  rude 
kind  of  verse.  In  this  form  it  is  supposed  they  were  sung  or 
recited  at  the  feasts  of  princes  and  knights  in  their  baronial 
halls.  The  following  specimen  of  the  language  and  style  of 
Robert  de  Beauvais,  who  flourished  in  1257,  is  from  Sir  Walter 
Scott's  Introduction  to  the  Romance  of  Sir  Tristrem. : 


INTRODUCTION.  23 

"  Ne  voil  pas  emmi  dire, 
Ici  diverse  la  matyere, 
Entre  ecus  qui  solent  cunter, 
E  do  la  eunte  Tristran  parler." 

"  I  will  not  say  too  much  about  it, 
So  diverse  is  the  matter, 
Among  those  who  are  in  the  habit  of  telling 
And  relating  the  story  of  Tristran." 

This  is  a  specimen  of  the  language  which  was  in  use  among 
the  nobility  of  England  in  the  ages  immediately  after  the  Nor 
man  conquest.  The  following  is  a  specimen  of  the  English  that 
existed  at  the  same  time  among  the  common  people.  Robert  de 
Brunne,  speaking  of  his  Latin  and  French  authorities,  says :  — 

"  Als  thai  haf  wry  ten  and  sayd 
Haf  I  alle  in  myn  Inglis  layd, 
In  symple  speeehe  as  I  couthe, 
That  is  lightest  in  maune's  mouthe. 
Alle  for  the  luf  of  symple  men, 
That  strange  Inglis  cannot  ken." 

The  "  strange  Inglis "  being  the  language  of  the  previous 
specimen. 

It  was  not  till  toward  the  end  of  the  thirteenth  century  that 
the  prose  romances  began  to  appear.  These  works  generally 
began  with  disowning  and  discrediting  the  sources  from  which 
in  reality  they  drew  their  sole  information.  As  every  romance 
was  supposed  to  be  a  real  history,  the  compilers  of  those  in 
prose  would  have  forfeited  all  credit  if  they  had  announced 
themselves  as  mere  copyists  of  the  minstrels.  On  the  contrary, 
they  usually  state  that,  as  the  popular  poems  upon  the  matter  in 
question  contain  many  "  lesings,"  they  had  been  induced  to 
translate  the  real  and  true  history  of  such  or  such  a  knight  from 
the  original  Latin  or  Greek,  or  from  the  ancient  British  or 
Armorican  authorities,  which  authorities  existed  only  in  their 
own  assertion. 

A  specimen  of  the  style  of  the  prose  romance  may  be  found 
in  the  following  extract  from  one  of  the  most  celebrated  and 
latest  of  them,  the  Morte  d'Arthur  of  Sir  Thomas  Mallory,  of 
the  date  of  1485.  From  this  work  much  of  the  contents  of  this 


24  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

volume  has  been  drawn,  with  as  close  an  adherence  to  the  origi 
nal  style  as  was  thought  consistent  with  our  plan  of  adapting 
our  narrative  to  the  taste  of  modern  readers. 

"It  is  notoyrly  knovven  thorugh  the  vnyuersal  world  that 
there  been  ix  worthy  and  the  best  that  ever  were.  That  is  to 
wete  thre  paynyms,  three  Jewes,  and  three  crysten  men.  As 
for  the  paynyms,  they  were  tofore  the  Incarnacyon  of  Cryst 
whiche  were  named,  the  fyrst  Hector  of  Troye ;  the  second 
Alysaunder  the  grete,  and  the  thyrd  July  us  Cezar,  Emperour 
of  Rome,  of  whome  thystoryes  ben  well  kno  and  had.  And  as 
for  the  thre  Jewes  whyche  also  were  tofore  thyncarnacyon  of 
our  Lord,  of  whome  the  fyrst  was  Due  Josue,  whyche  brought 
the  chyldren  of  Israhel  into  the  londe  of  beheste;  the  second 
Dauyd,  kyng  of  Jherusalem,  and  the  thyrd  Judas  Machabeus ; 
of  these  thre  the  byble  reherceth  al  theyr  noble  hystoryes  and 
actes.  And  sythe  the  sayd  Incarnacyon  liaue  ben  the  noble 
crysten  men  stalled  and  admytted  thorugh  the  vnyuersal  world 
to  the  nombre  of  the  ix  beste  and  worthy,  of  whome  was  fyrst 
the  noble  Arthur,  whose  noble  actes  I  purpose  to  wryte  in  this 
present  book  here  folowyng.  The  second  was  Charlemayn,  or 
Charles  the  grete,  of  whome  thystorye  is  had  in  many  places 
both  in  frensshe  and  englysshe,  and  the  thyrd  and  last  was 
Godefray  of  boloyn." 

THE  MABINOGEON. 

It  has  been  well  known  to  the  literati  and  antiquarians  of 
Europe,  that  there  exist  in  the  great  public  libraries  voluminous 
manuscripts  of  romances  and  tales  once  popular,  but  which  on 
the  invention  of  printing  had  already  become  antiquated  and 
fallen  into  neglect.  They  were  therefore  never  printed,  and 
seldom  perused  even  by  the  learned,  until  about  half  a  century 
ago,  when  attention  was  again  directed  to  them,  and  they  were 
found  very  curious  monuments  of  ancient  manners,  habits,  and 
modes  of  thinking.  Several  have  since  been  edited,  some  by 
individuals,  as  Sir  Walter  Scott  and  the  poet  Southey,  others 
by  antiquarian  societies.  The  class  of  readers  which  could  be 
counted  on  for  such  publications  was  so  small  that  no  induce- 


INTRODUCTION.  25 

ment  of  profit  could  be  found  to  tempt  editors  and  publishers 
to  give  them  to  the  world.  It  was  therefore  only  a  few,  and 
those  the  most  accessible,  which  were  put  in  print.  There  was 
a  class  of  manuscripts  of  this  kind  which  were  known,  or  rather 
suspected,  to  be  both  curious  and  valuable,  but  which  it  seemed 
almost  hopeless  ever  to  seem  fair  printed  English.  These  were 
the  Welsh  popular  tales,  called  Mabinogeon,  a  plural  word,  the 
singular  being  Mabinogi,  a  tale.  Manuscripts  of  these  were 
contained  in  the  Bodleian  Library  at  Oxford,  and  elsewhere, 
but  the  difficulty  was  to  find  translators  and  editors.  The 
Welsh  is  a  spoken  language  among  the  peasantry  of  Wales,  but 
is  entirely  neglected  among  the  learned,  unless  they  are  natives 
of  the  principality.  Of  the  few  Welsh  scholars  none  were 
found  who  took  sufficient  interest  in  this  branch  of  learning  to 
give  these  productions  to  the  English  public.  Southey  and 
Scott,  and  others  who,  like  them,  loved  the  old  romantic  legends 
of  their  country,  often  urged  upon  the  Welsh  literati  the  duty 
of  reproducing  the  Mabinogeon.  Southey,  in  the  preface  to 
his  edition  of  Morte  d' Arthur,  says  :  "The  specimens  which  I 
have  seen  are  exceedingly  curious ;  nor  is  there  a  greater  de 
sideratum  in  British  literature  than  an  edition  of  these  tales, 
with  a  literal  version,  and  such  comments  as  Mr.  Davies  of  all 
men  is  best  qualified  to  give.  Certain  it  is  that  many  of  the 
Round  Table  fictions  originated  in  Wales,  or  in  Bretagne,  and 
probably  might  still  be  traced  there." 

Again,  in  a  letter  to  Sir  Charles  W.  W.  Wynn,  dated  1819, 
he  says : — 

"I  begin  almost  to  despair  of  ever  seeing  more  of  the  Ma 
binogeon  ;  and  yet,  if  some  competent  Welshman  could  be 
found  to  edit  it  carefully,  with  as  literal  a  version  as  possible, 
I  am  sure  it  might  be  made  worth  his  while  by  a  subscription, 
printing  a  small  edition  at  a  high  price,  perhaps  two  hundred 
at  five  guineas.  I  myself  would  gladly  subscribe  at  that  price 
per  volume  for  such  an  edition  of  the  whole  of  your  genuine 
remains  in  prose  and  verse.  Till  some  such  collection  is  made, 
the  'gentlemen  of  Wales'  ought  to  be  prohibited  from  wear 
ing  a  leek ;  ay,  and  interdicted  from  toasting  cheese  also. 
Your  bards  would  have  met  with  better  usage  if  they  had 
been  Scotchmen." 


26  KING    ARTHUR    AND   HIS    KNIGHTS. 

Sharon  Turner  and  Sir  Walter  Scott  also  expressed  a  simi 
lar  wish  for  the  publication  of  the  Welsh  manuscripts.  The 
former  took  part  in  an  attempt  to  effect  it,  through  the  instru 
mentality  of  a  Mr.  Owen,  a  Welshman,  but,  we  judge,  by  what 
Southey  says  of  him,  imperfectly  acquainted  with  English. 
Southey's  language  is,  "William  Owen  lent  me  three  parts  of 
the  Mabinogeon,  delightfully  translated  into  so  Welsh  an 
idiom  and  syntax  that  such  a  translation  is  as  instructive  as  an 
original."  In  another  letter  he  adds,  "  Let  Sharon  make  his 
language  grammatical,  but  not  alter  their  idiom  in  the  slight 
est  point." 

It  is  possible  Mr.  Owen  did  not  proceed  far  in  an  un 
dertaking  which,  so  executed,  could  expect  but  little  popular 
patronage.  It  was  not  till  an  individual  should  appear  pos 
sessed  of  the  requisite  knowledge  of  the  two  languages,  of 
enthusiasm  sufficient  for  the  task,  and  of  pecuniary  resources 
sufficient  to  be  independent  of  the  booksellers  and  of  the  reading 
public,  that  such  a  work  could  be  confidently  expected.  Such 
an  individual  has,  since  Southey's  day  and  Scott's,  appeared  in 
the  person  of  Lady  Charlotte  Guest,  an  English  lady  united  to 
a  gentleman  of  property  in  Wales,  who,  having  acquired  the 
language  of  the  principality,  and  become  enthusiastically  fond 
of  its  literary  treasures,  has  given  them  to  the  English  reader, 
in  a  dress  which  the  printer's  and  the  engraver's  arts  have 
done  their  best  to  adorn.  In  four  royal  octavo  volumes  con 
taining  tne  Welsh  originals,  the  translation,  and  ample  illus 
trations  from  French,  German,  and  other  contemporary  and 
affiliated  literature,  the  Mabinogeon  is  spread  before  us.  To 
the  antiquarian  and  the  student  of  language  and  ethnology  an 
invaluable  treasure,  it  yet  can  hardly,  in  such  a  form,  win  its 
way  to  popular  acquaintance.  We  claim  no  other  merit  than 
that  of  bringing  it  to  the  knowledge  of  our  readers,  of  abridg 
ing  its  details,  of  selecting  its  most  attractive  portions,  and  of 
faithfully  preserving  throughout  the  style  in  which  Lady 
Guest  has  clothed  her  legends.  For  this  service  we  hope  that 
our  readers  will  confess  we  have  laid  them  under  no  light 
obligation. 


CHAPTER  II. 


THE  MYTHICAL  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

4  CCORDING  to  the  earliest  accounts,  Albion,  a  giant,  and 
-f\.  son  of  Neptune,  a  contemporary  of  Hercules,  ruled  over 
the  island,  to  which  he  gave  his  name.  Presuming  to  oppose 
the  progress  of  Hercules  in  his  western  march,  he  was  slain 
by  him. 

Another  story  is  that  Histion,  the  son  of  Japhet,  the  son  of 
Noah,  had  four  sons,  —  Francus,  Romanus,  Alernannus,  and 
Britto,  from  whom  descended  the  French,  Roman,  German, 
and  British  people. 

Rejecting  these  and  other  like  stories,  Milton  gives  more 
regard  to  the  story  of  Brutus,  the  Trojan,  which,  he  says,  is 
supported  by  "descents  of  ancestry  long  continued,  laws  and 
exploits  not  plainly  seeming  to  be  borrowed  or  devised,  which 
on  the  common  belief  have  wrought  no  small  impression ; 
defended  by  many,  denied  utterly  by  few."  The  principal 
authority  is  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth,  whose  history,  written  in 
the  twelfth  century,  purports  to  be  a  translation  of  a  history 

27 


28  KING    ARTHUR    AND   HIS    KNIGHTS. 

of  Britain,  brought  over  from  the  opposite  shore  of  France, 
which,  under  the  name  of  Brittany,  was  chiefly  peopled  by 
natives  of  Britain,  who  from  time  to  time  emigrated  thither, 
driven  from  their  own  country  by  the  inroads  of  the  Picts  and 
Scots.  According  to  this  authority,  Brutus  was  the  son  of 
Silvius,  and  he  of  Ascanius,  the  son  of  ^Eneas,  whose  flight 
from  Troy  and  settlement  in  Italy  will  be  found  narrated  in 
"The  Age  of  Fable." 

Brutus,  at  the  age  of  fifteen,  attending  his  father  to  the 
chase,  unfortunately  killed  him  with  an  arrow.  Banished 
therefor  by  his  kindred,  he  sought  refuge  in  that  part  of 
Greece  where  Helenus,  with  a  band  of  Trojan  exiles,  had 
become  established.  But  Helenus  was  now  dead,  and  the 
descendants  of  the  Trojans  were  oppressed  by  Pandrasus,  the 
king  of  the  country.  Brutus,  being  kindly  received  among 
them,  so  throve  in  virtue  and  in  arms  as  to  win  the  regard  of 
all  the  eminent  of  the  land  above  all  others  of  his  age.  In 
consequence  of  this  the  Trojans  not  only  began  to  hope,  but 
secretly  to  persuade  him  to  lead  them  the  way  to  liberty.  To 
encourage  them  they  had  the  promise  of  help  from  Assaracus, 
a  noble  Greek  youth,  whose  mother  was  a  Trojan.  He  had 
suffered  wrong  at  the  hands  of  the  king,  and  for  that  reason 
the  more  willingly  cast  in  his  lot  with  the  Trojan  exiles. 

Choosing  a  fit  opportunity,  Brutus  with  his  countrymen 
withdrew  to  the  woods  and  hills,  as  the  safest  place  from 
which  to  expostulate,  and  sent  this  message  to  Pandrasus: 
"That  the  Trojans,  holding  it  unworthy  of  their  ancestors  to 
serve  in  a  foreign  land,  had  retreated  to  the  woods,  choosing 
rather  a  savage  life  than  a  slavish  one.  If  that  displeased  him, 
then,  with  his  leave,  they  would  depart  to  some  other  country." 
Pandrasus,  not  expecting  so  bold  a  message  from  the  sons  of 
captives,  went  in  pursuit  of  them,  with  such  forces  as  he 
could  gather,  and  met  them  on  the  banks  of  the  Achelous, 
where  Brutus  got  the  advantage,  and  took  the  king  captive. 
The  result  was,  that  the  terms  demanded  by  the  Trojans  were 
granted ;  the  king  gave  his  daughter  Imogen  in  marriage  to 
Brutus,  and  furnished  shipping,  money,  and  fit  provision  for 
them  all  to  depart  from  the  land. 


THE    MYTHICAL    HISTORY    OF    ENGLAED.  29 

The  marriage  being  solemnized,  and  shipping  from  all  parts 
got  together,  the  Trojans,  in  a  fleet  of  no  less  than  three  hun 
dred  and  twenty  sail,  betook  themselves  to  the  sea.  On  the 
third  day  they  arrived  at  a  certain  island,  which  they  found 
destitute  of  inhabitants,  though  there  were  appearances  of 
former  habitation,  and  among  the  ruins  a  temple  of  Diana. 
Brutus,  here  performing  sacrifice  at  the  shrine  of  the  goddess, 
invoked  an  oracle  for  his  guidance,  in  these  lines:  — 

"  Goddess  of  shades,  and  huntress,  who  at  will 
Walk'st  on  the  rolling  sphere,  and  through  the  deep; 
On  ihy  third  realm,  the  earth,  look  now  and  tell 
What  land,  what  seat  of  rest,  thou  bidd'st  me  seek; 
What  certain  seat  where  I  may  worship  thee 
For  aye,  with  temples  vowed  and  virgin  choirs." 

To  whom,  sleeping  before  the  altar,  Diana  in  a  vision  thus 
answered  :  — 

"  Brutus !  far  to  the  west,  in  the  ocean  wide, 
Beyond  the  realm  of  Gaul,  a  land  there  lies, 
Seagirt  it  lies,  where  giants  dwelt  of  old ; 
Now,  void,  it  fits  thy  people  :  thither  bend 
Thy  course ;  there  shalt  thou  find  a  lasting  seat; 
There  to  thy  sons  another  Troy  shall  rise, 
And  kings  be  born  of  thee,  whose  dreaded  might 
Shall  save  the  world,  and  conquer  nations  bold." 

Brutus,  guided  now,  as  he  thought,  by  Divine  direction, 
sped  his  course  towards  the  west,  and,  arriving  at  a  place  on 
the  Tyrrhene  sea,  found  there  the  descendants  of  certain  Tro 
jans  who  with  Antenor  came  into  Italy,  of  whom  Corineus 
was  the  chief.  These  joined  company,  and  the  ships  pursued 
their  way  till  they  arrived  at  the  mouth  of  the  river  Loire,  in 
France,  where  the  expedition  landed,  with  a  view  to  a  settle 
ment,  but  were  so  rudely  assaulted  by  the  inhabitants  that 
they  put  to  sea  again,  and  arrived  at  a  part  of  the  coast  of 
Britain  now  called  Devonshire,  where  Brutus  felt  convinced 
that  he  had  found  the  promised  end  of  his  voyage,  landed  his 
colony,  and  took  possession. 

The  island,  not  yet  Britain,  but  Albion,  was  in  a  manner 
desert  and  inhospitable,  occupied  only  by  a  remnant  of  the 
giant  race  whose  excessive  force  and  ^tyranny  had  destroyed 

--X 
fflJNIV 


30  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

the  others.  The  Trojans  encountered  these  and  extirpated 
them,  Corineus  in  particular  signalizing  himself  by  his  ex 
ploits  against  them;  from  whom  Cornwall  takes  its  name,  for 
that  region  fell  to  his  lot,  and  there  the  hugest  giants  dwelt, 
lurking  in  rocks  and  caves,  till  Corineus  rid  the  land  of  them. 
Brutus  built  his  capital  city,  and  called  it  Trojanova  (New 
Troy),  changed  in  time  to  Trinovantum,  now  London;*  and, 
having  governed  the  isle  twenty-four  years,  died,  leaving  three 
sons,  Locrine,  Albanact,  and  Camber.  Locrine  had  the  middle 
part,  Camber  the  west,  called  Cambria  from  him,  and  Albanact 
Albania,  now  Scotland.  Locrine  was  married  to  Guendolen, 
the  daughter  of  Corineus;  but,  having  seen  a  fair  maid  named 
Estrildis,  who  had  been  brought  captive  from  Germany,  he 
became  enamored  of  her,  and  had  by  her  a  daughter,  whose 
name  was  Sabra.  This  matter  was  kept  secret  while  Corineus 
lived ;  but  after  his  death,  Locrine  divorced  Guendolen,  and 
made  Estrildis  his  queen.  Guendolen,  all  in  rage,  departed  to 
Cornwall,  where  Madan,  her  son,  lived,  who  had  been  brought 
up  by  Corineus,  his  grandfather.  Gathering  an  army  of  her 
father's  friends  and  subjects,  she  gave  battle  to  her  husband's 
forces,  and  Locrine  was  slain.  Guendolen  caused  her  rival, 
Estrildis,  with  her  daughter  Sabra,  to  be  thrown  into  the  river, 
from  which  cause  the  river  thenceforth  bore  the  maiden's 
name,  which  by  length  of  time  is  now  changed  into  Sabrina  or 
Severn.  Milton  alludes  to  this  in  his  address  to  the  river  — 

"  Severn  swift,  guilty  of  maiden's  death  " ;  — 

and  in  his  "Comus"  tells  the  story  with  a  slight  variation, 
thus : — 

"  There  is  a  gentle  nymph  not  far  from  hence, 
That  with  moist  curb  sways  the  smooth  Severn  stream ; 
Sabrina  is  her  name,  a  virgin  pure  : 
Whilom  she  was  the  daughter  of  Locrine, 
That  had  the  sceptre  from  his  father,  Brute. 
She,  guiltless  damsel,  flying  the  mad  pursuit 
Of  her  enraged  step-dame,  Guendolen, 
Commended  her  fair  innocence  to  the  flood, 

»  "For  noble  Britons  sprong  from  Trojans  bold, 

And  Troynovant  was  built  of  old  Troy's  ashes  cold." 

SPENSER,  Book  III.  Canto  IX.  38. 


THE    MYTHICAL    HISTORY    OF    ENGLAND.  31 

That  stayed  her  flight  with  his  'cross-flowing-  course. 
The  water-nymphs  that  in  the  bottom  played 
Held  up  their  pearled  wrists  and  took  her  in, 
Bearing  her  straight  to  aged  Nereus'  hall, 
Who,  piteous  of  her  woes,  reared  her  lauk  head, 
And.gave  her  to  his  daughters  to  imbathe 
In  nectared  lavers  screwed  with  asphodel, 
And  through  the  porch  and  inlet  of  each  sense 
Dropped  in  ambrosial  oils  till  she  revived, 
And  underwent  a  quick,  immortal  change, 
Made  goddess  of  the  river,"  etc. 

If  our  readers  ask  when  all  this  took  place,  we  must  answer, 
in  the  first  place,  that  mythology  is  not  careful  of  dates;  and 
next  that,  as  Brutus  was  the  great-grandson  of  JEneas,  it  must 
have  been  not  far  from  a  century  subsequent  to  the  Trojan 
war,  or  about  1100  years  before  the  invasion  of  the  island  by 
Julius  Caesar.  This  long  interval  is  filled  with  the  names  of 
princes  whose  chief  occupation  was  in  warring  with  one  an 
other.  Some  few,  whose  names  remain  connected  with  places, 
or  embalmed  in  literature,  we  will  mention. 

BLADUD. 

Bladud  built  the  city  of  Bath,  and  dedicated  the  medicinal 
waters  to  Minerva.  He  was  a  man  of  great  invention,  and 
practised  the  arts  of  magic,  till,  having  made  him  wings  to  fly, 
he  fell  down  upon  the  temple  of  Apollo,  in  Trinovant,  and  so 
died,  after  twenty  years'  reign. 


LEIR. 

Leir,  who  next  reigned,  built  Leicester,  and  called  it  after 
his  name.  He  had  no  male  issue,  but  only  three  daughters. 
When  grown  old,  he  determined  to  divide  his  kingdom  among 
his  daughters,  and  bestow  them  in  marriage.  But  first,  to  try 
which  of  them  loved  him  best,  he  determined  to  ask  them  sol 
emnly  in  order,  and  judge  of  the  warmth  of  their  affection  by 
their  answers.  Goneril,  the  eldest,  knowing  well  her  father's 
weakness,  made  answer  that  she  loved  him  "above  her  soul." 
"  Since  thou  so  honorest  my  declining  age,"  said  the  old  man, 


32  KING    ARTHUR    AND   HIS    KNIGHTS. 

"  to  thee  and  to  thy  husband  I  give  the  third  part  of  my 
realm."  Such  good  success  for  a  few  words  soon  uttered  was 
ample  instruction  to  Regan,  the  second  daughter,  what  to  say. 
She  therefore,  to  the  same  question  replied,  that  "  she  loved 
him  more  than  all  the  world  beside";  and  so  received  an  equal 
reward  with  her  sister.  But  Cordeilla,  the  youngest,  and  hith 
erto  the  best  beloved,  too  honest  to  profess  in  words  more  than 
she  felt  in  her  heart,  was  not  moved  from  the  solid  purpose  of 
a  sincere  and  virtuous  answer,  and  replied :  "Father,  my  love 
towards  you  is  as  my  duty  bids.  They  who  pretend  beyond 
this  flatter."  When  the  old  man,  sorry  to  hear  this,  and  wish 
ing  her  to  recall  these  words,  persisted  in  asking,  she  still  re 
strained  her  expressions  so  as  to  say  rather  less  than  more  than 
the  truth.  Then  Leir,  all  in  a  passion,  burst  forth:  "Since 
thou  hast  not  reverenced  thy  aged  father  like  thy  sisters,  think 
not  to  have  any  part  in  my  kingdom  or  what  else  I  have";  — 
and  without  delay,  giving  in  marriage  his  other  daughters, 
Goneril  to  the  Duke  of  Albany,  and  Regan  to  the  Duke  of 
Cornwall,  he  divides  his  kingdom  between  them.  Cordeilla, 
portionless,  married  the  prince  of  France,  who  shortly  after 
succeeded  his  father  upon  the  throne. 

King  Leir  went  to  reside  with  his  eldest  daughter,  attended 
only  by  a  hundred  knights.  But  in  a  short  time  his  attendants, 
being  complained  of  as  too  numerous  and  disorderly,  are  re 
duced  to  thirty.  Resenting  that  affront,  the  old  king  betakes 
him  to  his  second  daughter ;  but  she,  instead  of  soothing  his 
wounded  pride,  takes  part  with  her  sister,  and  refuses  to  admit 
a  retinue  of  more  than  five.  Then  back  he  returns  to  the 
other,  who  now  will  not  receive  him  with  more  than  one  at 
tendant.  Then  the  remembrance  of  Cordeilla  comes  to  his 
thoughts,  and  he  takes  his  journey  into  France  to  seek  her,  with 
little  hope  of  kind  consideration  from  one  whom  he  had  so 
injured,  but  to  pay  her  the  last  recompense  he  can  render, — 
confession  of  his  injustice.  When  Cordeilla  is  informed  of  his 
approach,  and  of  his  sad  condition,  she  pours  forth  true  filial 
tears.  And,  not  willing  that  her  own  or  others'  eyes  should  see 
him  in  that  forlorn  condition,  she  sends  one  of  her  trusted 
servants  to  meet  him,  and  convey  him  privately  to  some  com- 


THE    MYTHICAL    HISTORY    OF    ENGLAND.  33 

fortable  abode,  and  to  furnish  him  with  such  state  as  befitted  his 
dignity.  After  which  Cordeilla,  with  the  king  her  husband, 
went  in  state  to  meet  him,  and,  after  an  honorable  reception, 
the  king  permitted  his  wife  Cordeilla  to  go  with  an  army  and 
set  her  father  again  upon  his  throne.  They  prospered,  subdued 
the  wicked  sisters  and  their  *consorts,  and  Leir  obtained  the 
crown  and  held  it  three  years.  Cordeilla  succeeded  him,  and 
reigned  five  years  ;  but  the  sons  of  her  sisters,  after  that? 
rebelled  against  her,  and  she  lost  both  her  crown  and  life. 

Shakespeare  has  chosen  this  story  as  the  subject  of  his  trag 
edy  of  King  Lear,  varying  its  details  in  some  respects.  The 
madness  of  Lear,  and  the  ill  success  of  Cordeilla's  attempt  to 
reinstate  her  father,  are  the  principal  variations,  and  those 
in  the  names  will  also  be  noticed.  Our  narrative  is  drawn 
from  Milton's  History ;  and  thus  the  reader  will  perceive 
that  the  story  of  Leir  has  had  the  distinguished  honor  of 
being  told  by  the  two  acknowledged  chiefs  of  British  lite 
rature. 

FERREX  AND  PORREX. 

Ferrex  and  Porrex  were  brothers,  who  held  the  kingdom 
after  Leir.  They  quarrelled  about  the  supremacy,  and  Porrex 
expelled  his  brother,  who,  obtaining  aid  from  Suard,  king  of 
the  Franks,  returned  and  made  war  upon  Porrex.  Ferrex  was 
slain  in  battle,  and  his  forces  dispersed.  When  their  mother 
came  to  hear  of  her  son's  death,  who  was  her  favorite,  she  fell 
into  a  great  rage,  and  conceived  a  mortal  hatred  against  the 
survivor.  She  took,  therefore,  her  opportunity  when  he  was 
asleep,  fell  upon  him,  and,  with  the  assistance  of  her  women, 
tore  him  in  pieces.  This  horrid  story  would  not  be  worth 
relating,  were  it  not  for  the  fact  that  it  has  furnished  the  plot 
for  the  first  tragedy  which  was  written  in  the  English  language. 
It  was  entitled  Gorboduc,  but  in  the  second  edition  Ferrex  and 
Porrex,  and  was  the  production  of  Thomas  Sackville,  afterwards 
Earl  of  Dorset,  and  Thomas  Norton,  a  barrister.  Its  date  was 
1561. 


34  KING    AKTHUK    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 


DlJNWALLO    MOLMUTIUS. 

This  is  the  next  name  of  note.  Molmutius  established  the 
Molmutine  laws,  which  bestowed  the  privilege  of  sanctuary  on 
temples,  cities,  and  the  roads  leading  to  them,  and  gave  t-he 
same  protection  to  ploughs,  extending  a  religious  sanction  to 
the  labors  of  the  field.  Shakespeare  alludes  to  him  in  Cymbe- 
line,  Act  III.  Sc.  I. :  — 

"  Molmutius  made  our  laws  ; 
Who  was  the  first  of  Britain  which  did  put 
His  brows  within  a  golden  crown,  and  called 
Himself  a  king." 

BRENNUS  AND  BELINUS, 

the  sons  of  Molmutius,  succeeded  him.  They  quarrelled,  and 
Brennus  was  driven  out  of  the  island,  and  took  refuge  in  Gaul, 
where  he  met  with  such  favor  from  the  king  of  the  Allobroges, 
that  he  gave  him  his  daughter  in  marriage,  and  made  him 
his  partner  on  the  throne.  Brennus  is  the  name  which  the 
Roman  historians  give  to  the  famous  leader  of  the  Gauls  ^vho 
took  Rome  in  the  time  of  Camillus.  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth 
claims  the  glory  of  the  conquest  for  the  British  prince,  after 
he  had  become  king  of  the  Allobroges. 

ELIDURE. 

After  Belinus  and  Brennus  there  reigned  several  kings  of 
little  note,  and  then  came  Elidure.  Arthgallo,  his  brother, 
being  king,  gave  great  offence  to  his  powerful  nobles,  who  rose 
against  him,  deposed  him,  and  advanced  Elidure  to  the  throne, 
Arthgallo  fled,  and  endeavored  to  find  assistance  in  the  neigh 
boring  kingdoms  to  reinstate  him,  but  found  none.  Elidure 
reigned  prosperously  and  wisely.  After  five  years'  possession 
of  the  kingdom,  one  day,  when  hunting,  he  met  in  the  forest 
his  brother,  Arthgallo,  who  had  been  deposed.  After  long 
wandering,  unable  longer  to  bear  the  poverty  to  which  he  was 
reduced,  he  had  returned  to  Britain,  with  only  ten  followers. 


THE    MYTHICAL    HISTORY    OF.    ENGLAND.  35 

designing  to  repair  to  those  who  had  formerly  been  his  friends. 
Elidure,  at  the  sight  of  his  brother  in  distress,  forgetting  all. 
animosities,  ran  to  him,  and  embraced  him.  He  took  Arthgallo 
home  with  him,  and  concealed  him  in  the  palace.  After  this 
he  feigned  himself  sick,  and,  calling  his  nobles  about  him,  in 
duced  them,  partly  by  persflasion,  partly  by  force,  to  consent 
to  his  abdicating  the  kingdom,  and  reinstating  his  brother  on 
the  throne.  The  agreement  being  ratified,  Elidure  took  the 
crown  from  his  own  head,  and  put  it  on  his  brother's  head. 
Arthgallo  after  this  reigned  ten  years,  well  and  wisely,  exer 
cising  strict  justice  towards  all  men. 

He  died,  and  left  the  kingdom  to  his  sons,  who  reigned  with 
various  fortunes,  but  were  not  long-lived,  and  left  no  offspring, 
so  that  Elidure  was  again  advanced  to  the  throne,  and  finished 
the  course  of  his  life  in  just  and  virtuous  actions,  receiving  the 
name  of  the  pious,  from  the  love  and  admiration  of  his  subjects. 

Wordsworth  has  taken  the  story  of  Artegal  and  Elidure  for 
the  subject  of  a  poem,  which  is  No.  2  of  "  Poems  founded  on 
the  Affections." 

LUD. 

After  Elidure  the  Chronicle  names  many  kings,  but  none  of 
special  note,  till  we  come  to  Lud,  who  greatly  enlarged  Tri- 
novant,  his  capital,  and  surrounded  it  with  a  wall.  He  changed 
its  name,  bestowing  upon  it  his  own,  so  that  thenceforth  it  was 
called  Lud's  town,  afterwards  London.  Lud  was  buried  by  the 
gate  of  the  city  called  after  him  Ludgate.  He  had  two  sons, 
but  they  were  not  old  enough  at  the  time  of  their  father's  death 
to  sustain  the  cares  of  government,  and  therefore  their  uncle 
Caswallaun,  or  Cassibellaunus,  succeeded  to  the  kingdom.  He 
was  a  brave  and  magnificent  prince,  so  that  his  fame  reached 
to  distant  countries. 


CASSIBELLAUNUS. 

About  this  time  it  happened  (as  is  found  in  the  Roman 
histories)  that  Julius  Caesar,  having  subdued  Gaul,  came  to  the 
shore  opposite  Britain.  And  having  resolved  to  add  this  island 


36  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

also  to  his  conquest,  he  prepared  ships  and  transported  his 
army  across  the  sea,  to  the  mouth  of  the  river  Thames.  Here 
he  was  met  by  Cassibellaun,  with  all  his  forces,  and  a  battle 
ensued,  in  which  Nennius,  the  brother  of  Cassibellaun,  engaged 
in  single  combat  with  Ca3sar.  After  several  furious  blows  given 
and  received,  the  sword  of  Ca3sar  stuck  so  fast  in  the  shield  of 
Nennius,  that  it  could  not  be  pulled  out,  and,  the  combatants 
being  separated  by  the  intervention  of  the  troops,  Nennius 
remained  possessed  of  this  trophy.  At  last,  after  the  greater 
part  of  the  day  was  spent,  the  Britons  poured  in  so  fast  that 
Caasar  was  forced  to  retire  to  his  camp  and  fleet.  And  finding 
it  useless  to  continue  the  war  any  longer  at  that  time,  he  re 
turned  to  Gaul. 

Shakespeare  alludes  to  Cassibellaunus,  in  Cymbelinc- :— ^ 

"  The  famed  Cassibelan,  who  was  once  at  point 
(0  giglot  fortune  !)  to  master  Caesar's  sword, 
Made  Lud's  town  with  rejoicing  fires  bright, 
And  Britons  strut  with  courage." 


KYMBELIXUS,  OR  CYMBELINE. 

Caesar,  on  a  second  invasion  of  the  island,  was  more  fortunate, 
and  compelled  the  Britons  to  pay  tribute.  Cymbeline,  the 
nephew  of  the  king,  was  delivered  to  the  Romans  as  a  hostage 
for  the  faithful  fulfilment  of  the  treaty,  and,  being  carried  to 
Rome  by  Caesar,  he  was  there  brought  up  in  the  Roman  arts 
and  accomplishments.  Being  afterwards  restored  to  his  coun 
try,  and  placed  on  the  throne,  he  was  attached  to  the  Romans, 
and  continued  through  all  his  reign  at  peace  with  them.  His 
sons,  Guiderius  and  Arviragus,  who  make  their  appearance  in 
Shakespeare's  play  of  Cymbeline,  succeeded  their  father,  and, 
refusing  to  pay  tribute  to  the  Romans,  brought  on  another  in 
vasion.  Guiderius  was  slain,  but  Arviragus  afterward  made 
terms  with  the  Romans,  and  reigned  prosperously  many  years. 


THE    MYTHICAL    HISTORY    OF    ENGLAND.  37 


ARMORICA. 

The  next  event  of  note  is  the  conquest  and  colonization  of 
Armorica,  by  Mftximus,  a  Roman  general,  and  Conan,  lord  of 
Miniadoc  or  Denbigh-land,  ift  Wales.  The  name  of  the  country 
was  changed  to  Brittany,  or  Lesser  Britain  ;  and  so  completely 
was  it  possessed  by  the  British  colonists,  that  the  language  be 
came  assimilated  to  that  spoken  in  Wales,  and  it  is  said  that 
to  this  day  the  peasantry  of  the  two  countries  can  understand 
each  other  when  speaking  their  native  language. 

The  Romans  eventually  succeeded  in  establishing  themselves 
in  the  island,  and  after  the  lapse  of  several  generations  they 
became  blended  with  the  natives  so  that  no  distinction  existed 
between  the  two  races.  When  at  length  the  Roman  armies 
were  withdrawn  from  Britain,  their  departure  was  a  matter  of 
regret  to  the  inhabitants,  as  it  left  them  without  protection 
against  the  barbarous  tribes,  Scots,  Picts,  and  Norwegians,  who 
harassed  the  country  incessantly.  This  was  the  state  of  things 
when  the  era  of  King  Arthur  began. 


The  adventure  of  Albion,  the  giant,  with  Hercules  is  alluded 
to  by  Spenser,  Faery  Queene,  Book  IV.,  Canto  xi.  :  — 

"  For  Albion  the  son  of  Neptune  was ; 
Who  for  the  proof  of  his  great  puissance, 
Out  of  his  Albion  did  on  dry  foot  pass, 
Into  old  Gaul  that  now  is  cleped  France, 
To  fight  with  Hercules,  that  did  advance 
To  vanquish  all  the  world  with  matchless  might; 
And  there  his  mortal  part  by  great  mischance 
Was  slain." 


CHAPTER  III. 


ARTHUR. 


WE    shall  begin   our  history  of   King   Arthur  by  giving 
those  particulars  of   his  life  which  appear  to  rest  on 
historical  evidence ;  and  then   proceed  to  record  those  legends 
concerning   him  which    form    the    earliest   portion   of  British 
literature. 

Arthur  was  a  prince  of  the  tribe  of  Britons  called  Silures, 
whose  country  was  South  Wales,  —  the  son  of  Uther,  named 
Pendragon,  a  title  given  to  an  elective  sovereign,  paramount 
over  the  many  kings  of  Britain.  He  appears  to  have  com 
menced  his  martial  career  about  the  year  500,  and  was  raised 
to  the  Pendragonship  about  ten  years  later.  He  is  said  to 
have  gained  twelve  victories  over  the  Saxons.  The  most  im 
portant  of  them  was  that  of  Badon,  by  some  supposed  to  be 
Bath,  by  others  Berkshire.  This  was  the  last  of  his  battles 
with  the  Saxons,  and  checked  their  progress  so  effectually  that 
Arthur  experienced  no  more  annoyance  from  them,  and  reigned 
38 


ARTHUR.  39 

in  peace,  until  the  revolt  of  his  nephew  Modred,  twenty  years 
later,  which  led  to  the  fatal  battle  of  Camlan,  in  Cornwall,  in 
542.  Modred  was  slain,  and  Arthur,  mortally  wounded,  was 
conveyed  by  sea  to  Glastonbury,  where  he  died,  and  was 
buried.  Tradition  preserved  the  memory  of  the  place  of  his 
interment  within  the  abbe^,  as  we  are  told  by  Giraldus  Cam- 
brensis,  who  was  present  when  the  grave  was  opened  by  com 
mand  of  Henry  II.  in  1150,  and  saw  the  bones  and  sword  of 
the  monarch,  and  a  leaden  cross  let  into  his  tombstone,  with 
the  inscription  in  rude  Roman  letters,  "Here  lies  buried  the 
famous  King  Arthur,  in  the  island  Avolonia."  This  story  has 
been  elegantly  versified  by  Warton.  A  popular  traditional 
belief  was  long  entertained  among  the  Britons  that  Arthur 
was  not  dead,  but  had  been  carried  off  to  be  healed  of  his 
wounds  in  Fairy-land,  and  that  he  would  reappear  to  avenge 
his  countrymen,  and  reinstate  them  in  the  sovereignty  of 
Britain.  In  Warton's  Ode  a  bard  relates  to  King  Henry  the 
traditional  story  of  Arthur's  death,  and  closes  with  these 
lines  :  — 

"  Yet  in  vain  a  paynim  foe 
Armed  with  fate  the  mighty  blow; 
For  when  he  fell,  the  Elfin  queen, 
All  in  secret  and  unseen, 
O'er  the  fainting  hero  threw 
Her  mantle  of  ambrosial  blue, 
And  bade  her  spirits  bear  him  far, 
In  Merlin's  agate-axled  car, 
To  her  green  isle's  enamelled  steep, 
Far  in  the  navel  of  the  deep. 
O'er  his  wounds  she  sprinkled  dew 
From  flowers  that  in  Arabia  grew. 

There  he  reigns  a  mighty  king, 

Thence  to  Britain  shall  return, 

If  right  prophetic  rolls  I  learn, 

Borne  on  victory's  spreading  plume, 

His  ancient  sceptre  to  resume, 

His  knightly  table  to  restore, 

And  brave  the  tournaments  of  yore." 


40  KING    ARTHUR    AND   HIS    KNIGHTS. 

After  this  narration  another  bard  came  forward,  who  recited 
a  different  story  :  — 

"When  Arthur  bowed  his  haughty  crest, 
No  princess  veiled  in  azure  vest 
Snatched  him,  by  Merlin's  powerful  spell, 
In  groves  of  golden  bliss  to  dwell ; 
But  when  he  fell,  with  winged  speed, 
His  champions,  on  a  milk-white  steed, 
From  the  battle's  hurricane 
Bore  him  to  Joseph's  towered  fane,* 
In  the  fair  vale  of  Avalon ; 
There,  with  chanted  orison 
And  the  long  blaze  of  tapers  clear, 
The  stoled  fathers  met  the  bier ; 
Through  the  dim  aisles,  in  order  dread 
Of  martial  woe,  the  chief  they  led, 
And  deep  entombed  in  holy  ground, 
Before  the  altar's  solemn  bound." 

It  must  not  be  concealed,  that  the  very  existence  of  Arthur 
has  been  denied  by  some.  Milton  says  of  him:  "As  to  Ar 
thur,  more  renowned  in  songs  and  romances  than  in  true  sto 
ries,  who  he  was,  and  whether  ever  any  such  reigned  in  Britain, 
hath  been  doubted  heretofore,  and  may  again,  with  good  rea 
son."  Modern  critics,  however,  admit  that  there  was  a  prince 
of  this  name,  and  find  proof  of  it  in  the  frequent  mention  of 
him  in  the  writings  of  the  Welsh  bards.  But  the  Arthur  of 
romance,  according  to  Mr.  Owen,  a  Welsh  scholar  and  anti 
quarian,  is  a  mythological  person.  "Arthur,"  he  says,  "is  the 
Great  Bear,  as  the  name  literally  implies  (Arctos,  Arcturus), 
and  perhaps  this  constellation,-  being  so  near  the  pole,  and  visi 
bly  describing  a  circle  in  a  small  space,  is  the  origin  of  the 
famous  Round  Table."  Let  us  now  turn  to  the  history  of 
King  Arthur,  as  recorded  by  the  romantic  chroniclers. 

*  Glastonbury  Abbey,  said  to  be  founded  by  Joseph  of  Arimathea,  in  a  spot 
anciently  called  the  island  or  valley  of  Avalonia. 

Tennyson,  in  his  Palace  of  Art,  alludes  to  the  legend  of  Arthur's  rescue  by 
the  Fairy  queen,  thus  :  — 

"  Or  mythic  Uther's  deeply  wounded  son, 

In  some  fair  space  of  sloping  greens, 
Lay  dozing  in  the  vale  of  Avalon, 
And  watched  by  weeping  queens." 


ARTHUR.  41 

Constans,  king  of  Britain,  had  three  sons,  Moines,  Ambro- 
sius,  otherwise  called  Uther,  and  Pendragon.  Moines,  soon 
after  his  accession  to  the  crown,  was  vanquished  by  the  Sax 
ons,  in  consequence  of  the  treachery  of  his  seneschal,  Vorti- 
gern,  and  groAving  unpopular,  through  misfortune,  he  was 
killed  by  his  subjects,  and*the  traitor  Vortigern  chosen  in  his 
place. 

Vortigern  was  soon  after  defeated  in  a  great  battle  by  Uther 
and  Pendragon,  the  surviving  brothers  of  Moines,  and  Pen- 
dragon  ascended  the  throne. 

This  prince  had  great  confidence  in  the  wisdom  of  Merlin, 
and  made  him  his  chief  adviser.  About  this  time  a  dreadful 
war  arose  between  the  Saxons  and  Britons.  Merlin  obliged 
the  royal  brothers  to  swear  fidelity  to  each  other,  but  predicted 
that  one  of  them  must  fall  in  the  first  battle.  The  Saxons 
were  routed,  and  Pendragon,  being  slain,  was  succeeded  by 
Uther,  who  now  assumed,  in  addition  to  his  own  name,  the 
appellation  of  Pendragon. 

Merlin  still  continued  a  favorite  counsellor.  At  the  request 
of  Uther,  he  transported  by  magic  art  enormous  stones  from 
Ireland,  to  form  the  sepulchre  of  Pendragon.  These  stones 
constitute  the  monument  now  called  Stonehenge,  on  Salisbury 
Plain. 

Merlin  next  proceeded  to  Carlisle  to  prepare  the  Round 
Table,  at  which  he  seated  an  assemblage  of  the  great  nobles  of 
the  country.  The  companions  admitted  to  this  high  order 
were  bound  by  oath  to  assist  each  other  at  the  hazard  of  their 
own  lives,  to  attempt  singly  the  most  perilous  adventures,  to 
lead,  when  necessary,  a  life  of  monastic  solitude,  to  fly  to  arms 
at  the  first  summons,  and  never  to  retire  from  battle  till 
they  had  defeated  the  enemy,  unless  night  intervened  and  sep 
arated  the  combatants. 

Soon  after  this  institution,  the  king  invited  all  his  barons  to 
the  celebration  of  a  great  festival,  which  he  proposed  holding 
annually  at  Carlisle. 

As  the  knights  had  obtained  the  sovereign's  permission  to 
brino-  their  ladies  alono-  with  them,  the  beautiful  loferne  accom- 

DO  ™ 

panied   her  husband,   Gerlois,  Duke  of   Tintadiel,   to   one    of 


42  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

these  anniversaries.-  The  king  became  deeply  enamored  of 
the  Duchess,  and  disclosed  his  passion  ;  but  Igerne  repelled  his 
advances,  and  revealed  his  solicitations  to  her  husband.  On 
hearing  this,  the  Duke  instantly  removed  from  court  with 
Igerne,  and  without  taking  leave  of  Uther.  The  king  com 
plained  to  his  council  of  this  wTant  of  duty,  and  they  decided 
that  the  Duke  should  be  summoned  to  court,  and,  if  refrac 
tory,  should  be  treated  as  a  rebel.  As  he  refused  to  obey  the 
citation,  the  king  carried  war  into  the  estates  of  his  vassal, 
and  besieged  him  in  the  strong  castle  of  Tintadiel.  Merlin 
transformed  the  king  into  the  likeness  of  Gerlois,  and  enabled 
him  to  have  many  stolen  interviews  with  Igerne.  At  length 
the  Duke  was  killed  in  battle,  and  the  king  espoused  Igerne. 

From  this  union  sprang  Arthur,  who  succeeded  his  father, 
Uther,  upon  the  throne. 

ARTHUR  CHOSEN  KING. 

Arthur,  though  only  fifteen  years  old  at  his  father's  death, 
was  elected  king,  at  a  general  meeting  of  the  nobles.  It  was 
not  done  without  opposition,  for  there  were  many  ambitious 
competitors ;  but  Bishop  Brice,  a  person  of  great  sanctity,  on 
Christmas  eve  addressed  the  assembly,  and  represented  that  it 
would  well  become  them,  at  that  solemn  season,  to  put  up  their 
prayers  for  some  token  which  should  manifest  the  intentions 
of  Providence  respecting  their  future  sovereign.  This  was 
done,  and  with  such  success,  that  the  service  was  scarcely 
ended,  wrhen  a  miraculous  stone  was*  discovered,  before  the 
church  door,  and  in  the  stone  was  firmly  fixed  a  sword,  with 
the  following  words  engraven  on  its  hilt :  — 

"  I  am  hight  Escaliborc, 
Unto  a  king  fair  tresore." 

Bishop  Brice,  after  exhorting  the  assembly  to  offer  up  their 
thanksgivings  for  this  signal  miracle,  proposed  a  law,  that 
whoever  should  be  able  to  draw  out  the  sword  from  the  stone, 
should  be  acknowledged  as  sovereign  of  the  Britons;  and  his 
proposal  was  decreed  by  general  acclamation.  The  tributary 


ARTHUR.  43 

kings  of  Uther,  and  the  most  famous  knights,  successively  put 
their  strength  to  the  proof,  but  the  miraculous  sword  resisted 
all  their  efforts.  It  stood  till  Candlemas  ;  it  stood  till  Easter, 
and  till  Pentecost,  when  the  best  knights  in  the  kingdom  usu 
ally  assembled- for  the  annual  tournament.  Arthur,  who  was 
at  that  time  serving  in  the  capacity  of  squire  to  his  foster- 
brother,  Sir  Kay,  attended  his  master  to  the  lists.  Sir  Kay 
fought  with  great  valor  and  success,  but  had  the  misfortune  to 
break  his  sword,  and  sent  Arthur  to  his  mother  for  a  new  one. 
Arthur  hastened  home,  but  did  not  find  the  lady ;  but  having 
observed  near  the  church  a  sword  sticking  in  a  stone,  he  gal 
loped  to  the  place,  drew  out  the  sword  with  great  ease,  and 
delivered  it  to  his  master.  Sir  Kay  would  willingly  have  as 
sumed  to  himself  the  dis'tinction  conferred  by  the  possession 
of  the  sword ;  but  when,  to  confirm  the  doubters,  the  sword 
was  replaced  in  the  stone,  he  was  utterly  unable  to  withdraw 
it,  and  it  would  yield  a  second  time  to  no  hand  but  Arthur's. 
Thus  decisively  pointed  out  by  Heaven  as  their  king,  Arthur 
was  by  general  consent  proclaimed  as  such,  and  an  early  day 
appointed  for  his  solemn  coronation. 

Immediately  after  his  election  to  the  crown,  Arthur  found 
himself  opposed  by  eleven  kings  and  one  duke,  who  with  a  vast 
army  were  actually  encamped  in  the  forest  of  Rockingham.  By 
Merlin's  advice  Arthur  sent  an  embassy  to  Brittany  to  solicit 
aid  of  King  Ban  and  King  Bohort,  two  of  the  best  knights  in 
the  world.  They  accepted  the  call,  and  with  a  powerful  army 
crossed  the  sea,  landing  at  Portsmouth,  where  they  were  re 
ceived  with  great  rejoicing.  The  rebel  kings  were  still  supe 
rior  in  numbers  ;  but  Merlin  by  a  powerful  enchantment,  caused 
all  their  tents  to  fall  down  at  once,  and  in  the  confusion 
Arthur  with  his  allies  fell  upon  them  and  totally  routed 
them. 

After  defeating  the  rebels,  Arthur  took  the  field  against  the 
Saxons.  As  they  were  too  strong  for  him  unaided,  he  sent  an 
embassy  to  Armorica,  beseeching  the  assistance  of  Hoel,  who 
soon  after  brought  over  an  army  to  his  aid.  The  two  kings 
joined  their  forces,  and  sought  the  enemy,  whom  they  met,  and 
both  sides  prepared  for  a  decisive  engagement.  "Arthur  him- 


44  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

self,"  as  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth  relates,  "  dressed  in  a  breast 
plate  worthy  of  so  great  a  king,  places  on  his  head  a  golden 
helmet  engraved  with  the  semblance  of  a  dragon.  Over  his 
shoulders  he  throws  his  shield  called  Priwen,  on  which  a  picture 
of  the  Holy  Virgin  constantly  recalled  her  to  his  memory.  Girt 
with  Caliburn,  a  most  excellent  sword,  and  fabricated  in  the  isle 
of  Avalon,  he  graces  his  right  hand  with  the  lance  named  Ron. 
This  was  a  long  and  broad  spear,  well  contrived  for  slaughter." 
After  a  severe  conflict,  Arthur,  calling  on  the  name  of  the  Vir 
gin,  rushes  into  the  midst  of  his  enemies,  and  destroys  multi 
tudes  of  them  with  the  formidable  Caliburn,  and  puts  the  rest 
to  flight.  Hoel,  being  detained  by  sickness,  took  no  part  in 
this  battle. 

This  is  called  the  victory  of  MoUnt  Badon,  and,  however 
disguised  by  fable,  it  is  regarded  by  historians  as  a  real  event. 

The  feats  performed  by  Arthur  at  the  battle  of  Badon  Mount 
are  thus  celebrated  in  Drayton's  verse  :  — 

"  They  sung  how  he  himself  at  Badon  bore,  that  day, 
When  at  the  glorious  goal  his  British  scepter  lay  ; 
Two  dais  together  how  the  battel  stronglie  stood ; 
Pendragon's  worthie  son,  who  waded  there  in  blood, 
Three  hundred  Saxons  slew  with  his  owne  valiant  hand." 

Song  IV. 

MERLIN. 

" The  most  famous  man  of  all  those  times, 

Merlin,  who  knew  the  range  of  all  their  arts, 
Had  built  the  King  his  havens,  ships  and  halls, 
Was  also  Bard,  and  knew  the  starry  heavens ; 
The  people  called  him  wizard."  —  TENNYSON. 

Now  Merlin,  of  whom  we  have  already  heard  somewhat  and 
shall  hear  more,  was  the  son  of  no  mortal  father,  but  of  an 
Incubus,  one  of  a  class  of  beings  not  absolutely  wicked,  but 
far  from  good,  who  inhabit  the  regions  of  the  air.  Merlin's 
mother  was  a  virtuous  young  woman,  who,  on  the  birth  of  her 
son,  intrusted  him  to  a  priest,  who  hurried  him  to  the  baptis 
mal  fount,  and  so  saved  him  from  sharing  the  lot  of  his  father, 
though  he  retained  many  marks  of  his  unearthly  origin. 


ARTHUR.  45 

At  this  time  Vortigern  reigned  in  Britain.  He  was  a  usurper, 
who  had  caused  the  death  of  his  sovereign,  Moines,  and  driven 
the  two  brothers  of  the  late  king,  whose  names  were  Uther  and 
Pendragon,  into  banishment.  Vortigern,  who  lived  in  con 
stant  fear  of  the.  return  of  the  rightful  heirs  of  the  kingdom, 
began  to  erect  a  strong  tower  for  defence.  The  edifice,  when 
brought  by  the  workmen  to  a  certain  height,  three  times  fell  to 
the  ground,  without  any  apparent  cause.  The  king  consulted 
his  astrologers  on  this  wonderful  event,  and  learned  from  them 
that  it  would  be  necessary  to  bathe  the  corner-stone  of  the 
foundation  with  the  blood  of  a  child  born  without  a  mortal 
father. 

In  search  of  such  an  infant,  Vortigern  sent  his  messengers 
all  over  the  kingdom,  and  they  by  accident  discovered  Merlin, 
whose  lineage  seemed  to  point  him  out  as  the  individual 
wanted.  They  took  him  to  the  king;  but  Merlin,  young  as  he 
was,  explained  to  the  king  the  absurdity  of  attempting  to  res 
cue  the  fabric  by  such  means,  for  he  told  him  the  true  cause  of 
the  instability  of  the  tower  was  its  being  placed  over  the  den 
of  two  immense  dragons,  whose  combats  shook  the  earth  above 
them.  The  king  ordered  his  workmen  to  dig  beneath  the 
tower,  and  when  they  had  done  so  they  discovered  two  enor 
mous  serpents,  the  one  white  as  milk,  the  other  red  as  fire. 
The  multitude  looked  on  with  amazement,  till  the  serpents, 
slowly  rising  from  their  den,  and  expanding  their  enormous 
folds,  began  the  combat,  when  every  one  fled  in  terror,  except 
Merlin,  who  stood  by  clapping  his  hands  and  cheering  on  the 
conflict.  The  red  dragon  was  slain,  and  the  white  one,  gliding 
through  a  cleft  in  the  rock,  disappeared. 

These  animals  typified,  as  Merlin  afterwards  explained,  the 
invasion  of  Uther  and  Pendragon,  the  rightful  princes,  who 
soon  after  landed  with  a  great  army.  Vortigern  was  defeated, 
*nd  afterwards  burned  alive  in  the  castle  he  had  taken  such 
pains  to  construct.  On  the  death  of  Vortigern,  Pendragon 
ascended  the  throne.  Merlin  became  his  chief  adviser,  and 
often  assisted  the  king  by  his  magical  arts.  Among  other  en 
dowments,  he  had  the  power  to  transform  himself  into  any 
shape  he  pleased.  At  one  time  he  appeared  as  a  dwarf,  at 


46  KING    ARTHUK    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

others  as  a  damsel,  a  page,  or  even  a  greyhound  or  a  stag.  This 
faculty  he  often  employed  for  the  service  of  the  king,  and 
sometimes  also  for  the  diversion  of  the  court  and  the  sove 
reign. 

Merlin  continued  to  be  a  favorite  counsellor  through  the 
reigns  of  Pendragon,  Uther,  and  Arthur,  and  at  last  disap 
peared  from  view,  arid  was  no  more  found  among  men,  through 
the  treachery  of  his  mistress,  Viviane,  the  Fairy,  which  hap 
pened  in  this  wise. 

Merlin,  having  become  enamored  of  the  fair  Viviane,  the 
Lady  of  the  Lake,  was  weak  enough  to  impart  to  her  various 
important  secrets  of  his  art,  being  impelled  by  a  fatal  destiny, 
of  which  he  was  at  the  same  time  fully  aware.  The  lady,  how 
ever,  was  riot  content  with  his  devotion,  unbounded  as  it 
seems  to  have  been,  but  "  cast  about,"  the  Romance  tells 
us,  how  she  might  "  detain  him  for  evermore,"  and  one 
day  addressed  him  in  these  terms:  "  Sir,  I  would  that  we 
should  make  a  fair  place  and  a  suitable,  so  contrived  by  ait 
and  by  cunning  that  it  might  never  be  undone,  and  that  you 
and  I  should  be  there  in  joy  and  solace."  "My  lady,"  said 
Merlin,  "  I  will  do  all  this."  "  Sir,"  said  she,  "  I  would  not 
have  you  do  it,  but  you  shall  teach  me,  and  I  will  do  it,  and 
then  it  will  be  more  to  my  rnind."  "  I  grant  you  this,"  said 
Merlin.  Then  he  began  to  devise,  and  the  damsel  put  it  all  in 
writing.  And  when  he  had  devised  the  whole,  then  had  the 
damsel  full  great  joy,  and  showed  him  greater  semblance  of 
love  than  she  had  ever  before  made,  and  they  sojourned  to 
gether  a  long  while.  At  length  it  fell  out  that,  as  they  were 
going  one  day  hand  in  hand  through  the  forest  of  Breceliande, 
they  found  a  bush  of  white-thorn,  which  was  laden  with  flow 
ers  ;  and  they  seated  themselves,  under  the  shade  of  this  white 
thorn,  upon  the  grass,  and  Merlin  laid  his  head  upon  the  dam 
sel's  lap,  and  fell  asleep.  Then  the  damsel  rose,  and  made  a 
ring  with  her  wimple  round  the  bush,  and  round  Merlin,  and 
began  her  enchantments,  such  as  he  himself  had  taught  her ; 
and  nine  times  she  made  the  ring,  and  nine  times  she  made  the 
enchantment,  and  then  she  went  and  sat  down  by  him,  and 
placed  his  head  again  upon  her  lap.  Arid  when  he  awoke,  and 


ARTHUR.  47 

looked  round  him,  it  seemed  to  him  that  lie  was  enclosed  in  the 
strongest  tower  in  the  world,  and  laid  upon  a  fair  bed.  Tnen 
said  he  to  the  dame :  "  My  lady,  you  have  deceived  me,  unless 
you  abide  with  me,  for  no  one  hath  power  to  unmake  this  tower 
but  you  alone."  -She  then  promised  that  she  would  be  often 
there,  and  in  this  she  held  her  covenant  with  him.  And  Mer 
lin  never  went  out  of  that  tower  where  his  Mistress  Viviane 
had  enclosed  him ;  but  she  entered  and  went  out  again  when 
she  listed. 

After  this  event  Merlin  was  never  more  known  to  hold  con 
verse  with  any  mortal  but  Viviane,  except  on  one  occasion. 
Arthur,  having  for  some  time  missed  him  from  his  court,  sent 
several  of  his  knights  in  search  of  him,  and  among  the  num 
ber  Sir  Gawain,  who  met  with  a  very  unpleasant  adventure 
while  engaged  in  this  quest.  Happening  to  pass  a  damsel  on 
his  road,  and  neglecting  to  salute  her,  she  revenged  herself  for 
his  incivility  by  transforming  him  into  a  hideous  dwarf.  He 
was  bewailing  aloud  his  evil  fortune  as  he  went  through  the 
forest  of  Breceliande,  when  suddenly  he  heard  the  voice  of  one 
groaning  on  his  right  hand  ;  and,  looking  that  way,  he  could  see 
nothing  save  a  kind  of  smoke,  which  seemed  like  air,  and  through 
which  he  could  not  pass.  Merlin  then  addressed  him  from  out 
the  smoke,  and  told  him  by  what  misadventure  he  was  impris 
oned  there.  "Ah,  sir ! "  he  added,  "  you  will  never  see  me 
more,  and  that  grieves  me,  but  I  cannot  remedy  it;  I  shall 
never  more  speak  to  you,  nor  to  any  other  person,  save  only 
my  mistress.  But  do  thou  hasten  to  King  Arthur,  and  charge 
him  from  me  to  undertake,  without  delay,  the  quest  of  the  Sa 
cred  Graal.  The  knight  is  already  born,  and  has  received 
knighthood  at  his  hands,  who  is  destined  to  accomplish  this 
quest."  And  after  this  he  comforted  Gawain  under  his  trans 
formation,  assuring  him  that  he  should  speedily  be  disen 
chanted  ;  and  he  predicted  to  him  that  he  should  find  the 
king  at  Carduel,  in  Wales,  on  his  return,  and  that  all  the  other 
knights  who  had  been  on  like  quest  would  arrive  there  the  same 
day  as  himself.  And  all  this  came  to  pass  as  Merlin  had  said. 

Merlin  is  frequently  introduced  in  the  tales  of  chivalry,  but 
it  is  chiefly  on  great  occasions,  and  at  a  period  subsequent  to 


48  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

his  death,  or  magical  disappearance.  In  the  romantic  poems  of 
Italy,  and  in  Spenser,  Merlin  is  chiefly  represented  as  a  magi 
cal  artist.  Spenser  represents  him  as  the  artificer  of  the  im 
penetrable  shield  and  other  armor  of  Prince  Arthur  (Faery 
Queene,  Book  I.,  Canto  vii.),  and  of  a  mirror,  in  which  a  dam 
sel  viewed  her  lover's  shade.  The  Fountain  of  Love,  in  the 
Orlando  Innamorato,  is  described  as  his  work  ;  and  in  the  poem 
of  Ariosto  we  are  told  of  a  hall  adorned  with  prophetic  paint 
ings,  which  demons  had  executed  in  a  single  night,  under  the 
direction  of  Merlin. 

The  following  legend  is  from  Spenser's  Faery  Queene  (Book 
III.,  Canto  iii.)  :  — 

CAER-MERDIN,    OR  CAERMARTHEN    (IN   WALES),    MERLIN'S    TOWER,    AND    THE 
IMPRISONED   FIENDS. 

Forthwith  themselves  disguising  both,  in  straunge 
And  base  attire,  that  none  might  them  bewray, 
To  Muridunum,  that  is  now  by  chaungc 
Of  name  Caer-Merdin  called,  they  took  their  way: 
There  the  wise  Merlin,  whylomc  wont  (they  say) 
To  make  his  wonne,  low  underneath  the  ground 
In  a  deep  delve,  far  from  the  view  of  day, 
That  of  no  living  wight  he  mote  be  found, 
Whenso  he  counselled  with  his  sprights  encompassed  round. 

And  if  thou  ever  happen  that  same  way 
To  travel,  go  to  see  that  dreadful  place ; 
It  is  a  hideous  hollow  cave  (they  say) 
Under  a  rock  that  lies  a  little  space, 
From  the  swift  Barry,  tombling  down  apace 
Amongst  the  woody  hills  of  Dy never; 
But  dare  not  thou,  I  charge,  in  any  case, 
To  enter  into  that  same  baleful  bower, 
For  fear  the  cruel  fiends  should  thee  unwares  devour. 

But  standing  high  aloft,  low  lay  thine  ear, 
And  there  such  ghastly  noise  of  iron  chains 
And  brazen  cauldrons  thou  shalt  rumbling  hear, 
Which  thousand  sprites  with  long  enduring  pains 
Do  toss,  that  it  will  stun  thy  feeble  brains; 
And  oftentimes  great  groans,  and  grievous  stounds, 
When  too  huge  toil  and  labor  them  constrains ; 
And  oftentimes  loud  strokes  and  ringing  sounds 
From  under  that  deep  rock  most  horribly  rebounds. 


ARTHUR.  49 

The  cause  some  say  is  this.    A  little  while 
Before  that  Merlin  died,  he  did  intend 
A  brazen  wall  in  ccmpas  to  compile 
About  Cacrmerdin,  and  did  it  commend 
Unto  these  sprites  to  bring  to  perfect  end; 
During  which  work  the  Lady  of  the  Lake, 
Whom  long  he  loved,  for  him  in  haste  did  send; 
Who,  thereby  forced  his  workmen  to  forsake, 
Them  bound  till  his  return  their  labor  not  to  slack. 

In  the  mean  time,  through  that  false  lady's  train, 
He  was  surprised,  and  buried  under  beare,* 
Ne  ever  to  his  work  returned  again ; 
Natheless  those  fiends  may  not  their  work  forbear, 
So  greatly  his  commandement  they  fear; 
But  there  do  toil  and  travail  day  and  night, 
Until  that  brazen  wall  they  up  do  rear. 
For  Merlin  had  in  magic  more  insight 
Than  ever  him  before  or  after  living  wight. 


GUENEVER. 

"  Leodogran,  the  King  of  Cameliard, 

Had  one  fair  daughter,  and  none  other  child, 
And  she  was  fairest  of  all  flesh  on  earth, 
Guenevere,  and  in  her  his  one  delight." 

TENNYSON. 

Merlin  had  planned  for  Arthur  a  marriage  with  the  daugh- 
of  King  Laodeganf  of  Carmalide.  By  his  advice  Arthur  paid 
a  visit  to  the  court  of  that  sovereign,  attended  only  by  Merlin 
and  by  thirty-nine  knights  whom  the  magician  had  selected  for 
that  service.  On  their  arrival  they  found  Laodegan  and  his 
peers  sitting  in  council,  endeavoring,  but  with  small  prospect 
of  success,  to  devise  means  for  resisting  the  impending  attack 
of  Ryence,  King  of  Ireland,  who,  with  fifteen  tributary  kings 
and  an  almost  innumerable  army,  had  nearly  surrounded  the 
city.  Merlin,  who  acted  as  leader  of  the  band  of  British 
knights,  announced  them  as  strangers,  who  came  to  offer  the 

*  Buried  under  beare.  Buried  under  something  which  enclosed  him  like  a 
coffin  or  bier. 

t  The  spelling  of  these  proper  names  is  very  often  only  a  matter  of  taste.  I 
think,  however,  Leodogran  and  Guenevere  are  less  common  than  Laodegan  and 
Guenever. 


50  KING    ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

king  their  services  in  his  wars;  but  under  the  express  condi 
tion  that  they  should  be  at  liberty  to  conceal  their  names  and 
quality  until  they  should  think  proper  to  divulge  them.  These 
terms  were  thought  very  strange,  but  were  thankfully  accepted, 
and  the  strangers,  after  taking  the  usual  oath  to  the  king,  re 
tired  to  the  lodging  which  Merlin  had  prepared  for  them. 

A  few  days  after  this,  the  enemy,  regardless  of  a  truce  into 
which  they  had  entered  with  King  Laodegan,  suddenly  issued 
from  their  camp  and  made  an  attempt  to  surprise  the  city. 
Cleodalis,  the  king's  general,  assembled  the  royal  forces  with 
all  possible  despatch.  Arthur  and  his  companions  also  flew  to 
arms,  and  Merlin  appeared  at  their  head,  bearing  a  standard  on 
which  was  emblazoned  a  terrific  dragon.  Merlin  advanced  to 
the  gate,  and  commanded  the  porter  to  open  it,  which  the  por 
ter  refused  to  do,  without  the  king's  order.  Merlin  thereupon 
took  up  the  gate,  with  all  its  appurtenances  of  locks,  bars,  and 
bolts,  and  directed  his  troop  to  pass  through,  after  which  he 
replaced  it  in  perfect  order.  He  then  set  spurs  to  his  horse,  and 
dashed,  at  the  head  of  the  little  troop,  into  a  body  of  two  thou 
sand  Pagans.  The  disparity  of  numbers  being  so  enormous, 
Merlin  cast  a  spell  upon  the  enemy,  so  as  to  prevent  their  see 
ing  the  small  number  of  their  assailants ;  notwithstanding 
which  the  British  knights  were  hard  pressed.  But  the  people 
of  the  city,  who  saw  from  the  walls  this  unequal  contest,  were 
ashamed  of  leaving  the  small  body  of  strangers  to  their  fate, 
so  they  opened  the  gate  and  sallied  forth.  The  numbers  were 
now  more  nearly  equal,  and  Merlin  revoked  his  spell,  so  that 
the  two  armies  encountered  on  fair  terms.  Where  Arthur,  Ban, 
Bohort,  and  the  rest  fought,  the  king's  army  had  the  advantage  ; 
but  in  another  part  of  the  field  the  king  himself  was  surrounded 
and  carried  off  by  the  enemy.  This  sad  sight  was  seen  by 
Guenever,  the  fair  daughter  of  the  king,  who  stood  on  the  city 
wall  and  looked  at  the  battle.  She  was  in  dreadful  distress, 
tore  her  hair,  and  swooned  away. 

But  Merlin,  aware  of  what  passed  in  every  part  of  the  field, 
suddenly  collected  his  knights,  led  them  out  of  the  battle,  in 
tercepted  the  passage  of  the  party  who  were  carrying  away 
the  king,  charged  them  with  irresistible  impetuosity,  cut  in 


ARTHUR.  51 

pieces  or  dispersed  the  whole  escort,  and  rescued  the  king.  In 
the  fight  Arthur  encountered  Caulang,  a  giant  fifteen  feet  high, 
and  the  fair  Guenever,  who  already  began  to  feel  a  strong  in 
terest  in  the  handsome  young  stranger,  trembled  for  the  issue 
of  the  contest.  But  Arthur,  dealing  a  dreadful  blow  on  the 
shoulder  of  the  monster,  cut  through  his  neck  so  that  his  head 
huii"1  over  on  one  side,  and  in  this  condition  his  horse  car 
ried  him  about  the  field,  to  the  great  horror  and  dismay  of 
the  Pagans.  Guenever  could  not  refrain  from  expressing 
aloud  her  wish  that  the  gentle  knight,  who  dealt  with  giants  so 
dexterously,  were  destined  to  become  her  husband,  and  the 
wish  was  echoed  by  her  attendants.  The  enemy  soon  turned 
their  backs,  and  fled  with  precipitation,  closely  pursued  by 
Laodegan  and  his  allies. 

After  the  battle  Arthur  was  disarmed  and  conducted  to  the 
bath  by  the  Princess  Guenever,  while  his  friends  were  attended 
by  the  other  ladies  of  the  court.  After  the  bath  the  knights 
were  conducted  to  a  magnificent  entertainment,  at  which  they 
were  diligently  served  by  the  same  fair  attendants.  Laode 
gan,  more  and  more  anxious  to  know  the  name  and  quality  of 
his  generous  deliverers,  and  occasionally  forming  a  secret  wish 
that  the  chief  of  his  guests  might  be  captivated  by  the  charms 
of  his  daughter,  appeared  silent  and  pensive,  and  was  scarcely 
roused  from  his  reverie  by  the  banter  of  his  courtiers.  Ar 
thur,  having  had  an  opportunity  of  explaining  to  Guenever  his 
great  esteem  for  her  merit,  was  in  the  joy  of  his  heart,  and  was 
still  further  delighted  by  hearing  from  Merlin  the  late  exploits 
of  Gawain  at  London,  by  means  of  which  his  immediate  return 
to  his  dominions  was  rendered  unnecessary,  and  he  was  left  at 
liberty  to  protract  his  stay  at  the  court  of  Laodegan.  Every 
day  contributed  to  increase  the  admiration  of  the  whole  court; 
for  the  gallant  strangers,  and  the  passion  of  Guenever  for  their 
chief;  and  when  at  last  Merlin  announced  to  the  king  that  the 
object  of  the  visit  of  the  party  was  to  procure  a  bride  for  their 
leader,  Laodegan  at  once  presented  Guenever  to  Arthur,  telling 
him  that,  whatever  might  be  his  rank,  his  merit  was  sufficient 
to  entitle  him  to  the  possession  of  the  heiress  of  Carmalide. 
Arthur  accepted  the  lady  with  the  utmost  gratitude,  and  Mer- 


52  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

lin  then  proceeded  to  satisfy  the  king  of  the  rank  of  his  son- 
in-law  ;  upon  which  Laodegan,  with  all  his  barons,  hastened  to 
do  homage  to  their  lawful  sovereign,  the  successor  of  Ilther 
Pendragon.  The  fair  Guenever  was  then  solemnly  betrothed 
to  Arthur,  and  a  magnificent  festival  was  proclaimed,  which 
lasted  seven  days.  At  the  end  of  that  time,  the  enemy  appear 
ing  again  with  renewed  force,  it  became  necessary  to  resume 
military  operations.* 

We  must  now  relate  what  took  place  at  or  near  London 
while  Arthur  was  absent  from  his  capital.  At  this  very  time  a 
band  of  young  heroes  were  on  their  way  to  Arthur's  court,  for 
the  purpose  of  receiving  knighthood  from  him.  They  were 
Gawain  and  his  three  brothers,  nephews  of  Arthur,  sons  of 
King  Lot,  and  Galachin,  another  nephew,  son  of  King  Nanters. 
King  Lot  had  been  one  of  the  rebel  chiefs  whom  Arthur  had 
defeated,  but  he  now  hoped  by  means  of  the  young  men  to  be 
reconciled  to  his  brother-in-law.  Pie  equipped  his  sons  and  his 
nephew  with  the  utmost  magnificence,  giving  them  a  splendid 
retinue  of  young  men,  sons  of  earls  and  barons,  all  mounted 
on  the  best  horses,  with  complete  suits  of  choice  armor. 
They  numbered  in  all  seven  hundred,  but  only  nine  had  yet 
received  the  order  of  knighthood  ;  the  rest  wrere  candidates  for 
that  honor,  and  anxious  to  earn  it  by  an  early  encounter  with 
the  enemy.  Gawain,  the  leader,  was  a  knight  of  wonderful 
strength  ;  but  what  was  most  remarkable  about  him  was  that 
his  strength  was  greater  at  certain  hours  of  the  day  than  at 
others.  From  nine  o'clock  till  noon  his  strength  was  doubled, 
and  so  it  was  from  three  to  even-song  ;  for  the  rest  of  the  time 
it  was  less  remarkable,  though  at  all  times  surpassing  that  of 
ordinary  men. 

After  a  march  of  three  days  they  arrived  in  the  vicinity  of 
London,  where  they  expected  to  find  Arthur  and  his  court ; 
and  very  unexpectedly  fell  in  with  a  large  convoy  belonging  to 
the  enemy,  consisting  of  numerous  carts  and  wagons,  all  loaded 

*  Guenever,  the  name  of  Arthur's  queen,  also  written  Genievre  and  Geneura, 
is  familiar  to  all  who  are  conversant  with  chivalric  lore.  It  is  to  her  adventures, 
and  those  of  her  true  knight,  Sir  Launcelot,  that  Dante  alludes  in  the  beautiful 
episode  of  Francesca  da  Rimini. 


ARTHUR.  53 

with  provisions,  and  escorted  by  three  thousand  men,  who  had 
been  collecting  spoil  from  all  the  country  round.  A  single 
charge  from  Ga wain's  impetuous  cavalry  was  sufficient  to  dis 
perse  the  escort  and  to  recover  the  convoy,  which  was  instantly 
despatched  to  London.  But  before  long  a  body  of  seven  thou 
sand  fresh  soldiers  advanced*to  the  attack  of  the  five  princes 
and  their  little  army.  Gawain,  singling  out  a  chief  named 
Choas,  of  gigantic  size,  began  the  battle  by  splitting  him  from 
the  crown  of  the  head  to  the  breast.  Galachin  encountered 
King  Sanagran,  who  was  also  very  huge,  and  cut  off  his  head. 
Agrivain  and  Gahariet  also  performed  prodigies  of  valor. 
Thus  they  kept  the  great  army  of  assailants  at  bay,  though 
hard  pressed,  till  of  a  sudden  they  perceived  a  strong  body  of 
the  citizens  advancing  from  London,  where  the  convoy  which 
had  been  recovered  by  Gawain  had  arrived,  and  informed  the 
mayor  and  citizens  of  the  danger  of  their  deliverer.  The  arri 
val  of  the  Londoners  soon  decided  the  contest.  The  enemy 
fled  in  all  directions,  and  Gawain  and  his  friends,  escorted  by 
the  grateful  citizens,  entered  London,  and  were  received  with 
acclamations. 

After  the  great  victory  of  Mount  Badon,  by  which  the  Sax 
ons  were  for  the  time  effectually  put  down,  Arthur  turned  his 
arms  against  the  Scots  and  Picts.  whom  he  routed  at  Lake 
Lomond,  and  compelled  to  sue  for  mercy.  He  then  went  to 
York  to  keep  his  Christmas,  and  employed  himself  in  restoring 
the  Christian  churches  which  the  Pagans  had  rifled  and  over 
thrown.  The  following  summer  he  conquered  Ireland,  and 
then  made  a  voyage  with  his  fleet  to  Iceland,  which  he  also 
subdued.  The  kings  of  Gothland  and  of  the  Orkneys  came  vol 
untarily  and  made  their  submission,  promising  to  pay  tribute. 
Then  he  returned  to  Britain,  where,  having  established  the 
kingdom,  he  dwelt  twelve  years  in  peace. 

During  this  time  he  invited  over  to  him  all  persons  whatso 
ever  that  were  famous  for  valor  in  foreign  nations,  and  aug 
mented  the  number  of  his  domestics,  and  introduced  such 
politeness  into  his  court  as  people  of  the  remotest  countries 
thought  worthy  of  their  imitation.  So  that  there  was  not  a 
nobleman  who  thought  himself  of  any  consideration  unless  his 


54  KING    ARTHUR   AND   HIS   KNIGHTS. 

clothes  and  arms  were  made  in  the  same  fashion  as  those  oi 
Arthur's  knights. 

Finding  himself  so  powerful  at  home,  Arthur  began  tq  form 
designs  for  extending  his  power  abroad.  So,  having  prepared 
his  fleet,  he  first  attempted  Norway,  that  he  might  procure  the 
crown  of  it  for  Lot,  his  sister's  husband.  Arthur  landed  in 
Norway,  fought  a  great  battle  with  the  king  of  that  country, 
defeated  him,  and  pursued  the  victory  till  he  had  reduced  the 
whole  country  under  his  dominion,  and  established  Lot  upon 
the  throne.  Then  Arthur  made  a  voyage  to  Gaul  and  laid 
siege  to  the  city  of  Paris.  Gaul  was  at  that  time  a  Roman 
province,  and  governed  by  Flollo,  the  Tribune.  When  the 
siege  of  Paris  had  continued  a  month,  and  the  people  began  to 
suffer  from  famine,  Flollo  challenged  Arthur  to  single  combat, 
proposing  to  decide  the  conquest  in  that  way.  Arthur  gladly 
accepted  the  challenge,  and  slew  his  adversary  in  the  contest, 
upon  which  the  citizens  surrendered  the  city  to  him.  After  the 
victory  Arthur  divided  his  army  into  two  parts,  one  of  which 
he  committed  to  the  conduct  of  Hoel,  whom  he  ordered  to 
march  into  Aquitaine,  while  he  with  the  other  part  should  en 
deavor  to  subdue  the  other  provinces.  At  the  end  of  nine 
years,  in  which  time  all  the  parts  of  Gaul  were  entirely  reduced, 
Arthur  returned  to  Paris,  where  he  kept  his  court,  and  calling 
an  assembly  of  the  clergy  and  people,  established  peace  and  the 
just  administration  of  the  laws  in  that  kingdom.  Then  he  be 
stowed  Normandy  upon  Bedver,  his  butler,  and  the  province 
of  Andegavia  upon  Kay,  his  steward,*  and  several  others  upon 
his  great  men  that  attended  him.  And,  having  settled  the 
peace  of  the  cities  and  countries,  he  returned  back  in  the  be 
ginning  of  sDring  to  Britain. 

*  This  name,  in  the  French  romances,  is  spelled  Qneux,  which  means  head 
cook.  This  would  seem  to  imply  that  it  was  a  title,  and  not  a  name  ;  yet  the  per 
sonage  who  hore  it  is  never  mentioned  by  any  other.  He  is  the  chief,  if  not  the 
only,  comic  character  among  the  heroes  of  Arthur's  court.  He  is  the  Seneschal 
or  Steward,  his  duties  also  embracing  those  of  chief  of  the  cooks.  In  the  ro 
mances  his  general  character  is  a  compound  of  valor  and  buffoonery,  always  ready 
to  fight,  and  generally  getting  the  worst  of  the  battle.  He  is  also  sarcastic  and 
abusive  in  his  remarks,  by  which  he  often  gets  into  trouble.  Yet  Arthur  seems 
to  have  an  attachment  to  him,  and  often  takes  his  advice,  which  is  generally 
wrong. 


ARTHUR.  55 

Upon  the  approacli  of  the  feast  of  Pentecost,  Arthur,  the  bet 
ter  to  demonstrate  his  joy  after  such  triumphant  successes,  and 
for  the  more  solemn  observation  of  that  festival,  and  reconciling 
the  minds  of  the  princes  that  were  now  subject  to  him,  resolved 
during  that  season  to  hold  a  magnificent  court,  to  place  the 
crown  upon  his  head,  and*  to  invite  all  the  kings  and  dukes 
under  his  subjection  to  the  solemnity.  And  he  pitched  upon 
Caerleon,  the  City  of  Legions,  as  the  proper  place  for  his  pur 
pose.  For,  besides  its  great  wealth  above  the  other  cities,*  its 
situation  upon  the  river  Usk,  near  the  Severn  sea,  was  most 
pleasant  and  fit  for  so  great  a  solemnity.  For  on  one  side  it  was 
washed  by  that  noble  river,  so  that  the  kings  and  princes  from 
the  countries  beyond  the  seas  might  have  the  convenience  of 
sailing  up  to  it.  On  the  other  side  the  beauty  of  the  meadows 
and  groves,  and  magnificence  of  the  royal  palaces,  with  lofty 
gilded  roofs  that  adorned  it,  made  it  even  rival  the  grandeur 
of  Koine.  It  was  also  famous  for  two  churches,  whereof  one 
was  adorned  with  a  choir  of  virgins,  who  devoted  themselves 
wholly  to  the  service  of  God,  and  the  other  maintained  a  con 
vent  of  priests.  Besides,  there  was  a  college  of  two  hundred 
philosophers,  who,  being  learned  in  astronomy  and  the  other 
arts,  were  diligent  in  observing  the  courses  of  the  stars,  and 
gave  Arthur  true  predictions  of  the  events  that  would  happen. 
In  this  place,  therefore,  which  afforded  such  delights,  were 
preparations  made  for  the  ensuing  festival. 

*  Several  cities  are  allotted  to  King  Arthur  by  the  romance-writers.  The  prin 
cipal  are  Caerleon,  Camelot,  and  Carlisle. 

Caerleon  derives  its  name  from  its  having  been  the  station  of  one  of  the  legions 
during  the  dominion  of  the  Romans.  It  is  called  by  Latin  writers  Urbs  Lcgio- 
num,  the  City  of  Legions, — the  former  word  being  rendered  into  Welsh  by 
Caer,  meaning  city,  and  the  latter  contracted  into  llcon.  The  river  Usk  retains 
its  name  in  modern  geography,  and  thei-c  is  a  town  or  city  of  Caerleon  upon  it, 
though  the  city  of  Cardiff  is  thought  to  be  the  scene  of  Arthur's  court.  Chester 
also  bears  the  Welsh  name  of  Caerleon ;  for  Chester,  derived  from  castra,  Latin 
for  camp,  is  the  designation  of  military  headquarters. 

Camelot  is  thought  to  be  Winchester. 

Shalottis  Guildibrd. 

Hamo's  Port  is  Southampton. 

Carlisle  is  the  city  still  retaining  that  name,  near  the  Scottish  border.  But 
this  name  is  also  sometimes  applied  to  other  places,  which  were,  like  itself,  mili 
tary  stations. 


56  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

Ambassadors  were  then  sent  into  several  kingdoms,  to 
invite  to  court  the  princes  both  of  Gaul  and  of  the  adjacent 
islands.  Accordingly  there  came  Augusel,  king  of  Albania, 
now  Scotland,  Cadwallo,  king  of  Venedotia,  now  North  Wales, 
Sater,  king  of  Demetia,  now  South  Wales;  also  the  archbishops 
of  the  metropolitan  sees,  London  and  York,  and  Dubricius, 
bishop  of  Caerleon,  the  City  of  Legions.  This  prelate,  who 
was  primate  of  Britain,  was  so  eminent  for  his  piety  that  he 
could  cure  any  sick  person  by  his  prayers.  There  were  also 
the  counts  of  the  principal  cities,  and  many  other  worthies  of 
no  less  dignity. 

From  the  adjacent  islands  came  Guillamurius,  king  of  Ire 
land,  Gunfasius,  king  of  the  Orkneys,  Malvasius,  king  of  Ice 
land,  Lot,  king  of  Norway,  Bedver  the  butler,  Duke  of  Nor 
mandy,  Kay  the  sewer,  Duke  of  Andegavia;  alsb  the  twelve 
peers  of  Gaul,  and  Hoel,  Duke  of  the  Armorican  Britons,  with 
his  nobility,  who  came  with  such  a  train  of  mules,  horses, 
and  rich  furniture,  as  is  difficult  to  describe.  Besides  these, 
there  remained  no  prince  of  any  consideration  on  this  side  of 
Spain  who  came  not  upon  this  invitation,  and  no  wonder,  when 
Arthur's  munificence,  which  was  celebrated  over  the  whole 
world,  made  him  beloved  by  all  people. 

When  all  were  assembled,  upon  the  day  of  the  solemnity,  the 
archbishops  were  conducted  to  the  palace  in  order  to  place  the 
crown  upon  the  king's  head.  Then  Dubricius,  inasmuch  as  the 
court  was  held  in  his  diocese,  made  himself  ready  to  celebrate 
the  office.  As  soon  as  the  king  was  invested  with  his  royal 
habiliments,  he  was  conducted  in  great  pomp  to  the  metropoli 
tan  church,  having  four  kings,  viz.,  of  Albania,  Cornwall,  De 
metia,  and  Venedotia,  bearing  four  golden  swords  before  him. 
On  another  part  was  the  queen,  dressed  out  in  her  richest  orna 
ments,  conducted  by  the  archbishops  and  bishops  to  the  Church 
of  Virgins ;  the  four,  queens,  also,  of  the  kings  last  men 
tioned,  bearing  before  her  four  white  doves,  according-  to  an 
cient  custom.  When  the  whole  procession  was  ended,  so 
transporting  was  the  harmony  of  the  musical  instruments  and 
voices,  whereof  there  was  a  vast  variety  in  both  churches,  that 
the  knights  who  attended  were  in  doubt  which  to  prefer,  and 


ARTHUR.  57 

therefore  crowded  from  one  to  the  other  by  turns,  and  were 
far  from  being  tired  of  the  solemnity,  though  the  whole  day 
had  been  spent  in  it.  At  last,  when  divine  service  was  over  at 
both  churches,  the  king  and  queen  put  off  their  crowns,  and, 
putting  on  their  lighter  ornaments,  went  to  the  banquet. 
When  they  had  all  taken  their  seats  according  to  precedence, 
Kay  the  sewer,  in  rich  robes  of  ermine,  with  a  thousand  young 
noblemen  all  in  like  manner  clothed  in  rich  attire,  served  up 
the  dishes.  From  another  part  Bedver  the  butler  was  followed 
by  the  same  number  of  attendants,  who  waited  with  all  kinds 
of  cups  and  drinking-vessels.  And  there  was  food  and  drink 
in  abundance,  and  everything  was  of  the  best  kind,  and  served 
in  the  best  manner.  For  at  that  time  Britain  had  arrived  at 
such  a  pitch  of  grandeur  that  in  riches,  luxury,  and  politeness 
it  far  surpassed  all  other  kingdoms. 

As  soon  as  the  banquets  were  over  they  went  into  the  fields 
without  the  city,  to  divert  themselves  with  various  sports,  such 
as  shooting  with  bows  and  arrows,  tossing  the  pike,  casting  of 
heavy  stones  and  rocks,  playing  at  dice,  and  the  like,  and  all 
these  inoffensively,  and  without  quarrelling.  In  this  manner 
were  three  days  spent,  and  after  that  they  separated,  and  the 
kings  and  noblemen  departed  to  their  several  homes. 

After  this  Arthur  reigned  five  years  in  peace.  Then  came 
ambassadors  from  Lucius  Tiberius,  Procurator  under  Leo,  Em 
peror  of  Rome,  demanding  tribute.  But  Arthur  refused  to 
pay  tribute,  and  prepared  for  war.  As  soon  as  the  necessary 
dispositions  were  made,  he  committed  the  government  of  his 
kingdom  to  his  nephew  Mod  red  and  to  Queen  Guenever,  and 
marched  with  his  army  to  Hamo's  Port,  where  the  wind  stood 
fair  for  him.  The  army  crossed  over  in  safety,  and  landed  at 
the  mouth  of  the  river  Barba.  And  there  they  pitched  their 
tents  to  wait  the  arrival  of  the  kings  of  the  islands. 

As  soon  as  all  the  forces  were  arrived,  Arthur  marched  for 
ward  to  Augustodunum,  and  encamped  on  the  banks  of  the 
river  Alba.  Here  repeated  battles  were  fought,  in  all  which 
the  Britons,  under  their  valiant  leaders,  Hoel,  Duke  of  Armorica, 
and  Gawain,  nephew  to  Arthur,  had  the  advantage.  At  length 
Lucius  Tiberius  determined  to  retreat,  and  wait  for  the  Emperor 


58  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

Leo  to  join  him  with  fresh  troops.  But  Arthur,  anticipating 
this  event,  took  possession  of  a  certain  valley,  and  closed  up 
the  way  of  retreat  to  Lucius,  compelling  him  to  fight  a  deci 
sive  battle,  in  which  Arthur  lost  some  of  the  bravest  of  his 
knights  and  most  faithful  followers.  But  on  the  other  hand 
Lucius  Tiberius  was  slain,  and  his  army  totally  defeated.  The 
fugitives  dispersed  over  the  country,  some  to  the  by-ways  and 
woods,  some  to  the  cities  and  towns,  and  all  other  places  where 
they  could  hope  for  safety. 

Arthur  stayed  in  those  parts  till  the  next  winter  was  over, 
and  employed  his  time  in  restoring  order  and  settling  the  gov 
ernment.  He  then  returned  into  England,  and  celebrated  his 
victories  with  great  splendor. 

Then  the  king  stablished  all  his  knights,  and  to  them  that 
were  not  rich  he  gave  lands,  and  charged  them  all  never  to  do 
outrage  nor  murder,  and  always  to  flee  treason  ;  also,  by  no 
means  to  be  cruel,  but  to  give  mercy  unto  him  that  asked 
mercy,  upon  pain  of  forfeiture  of  their  worship  and  lordship; 
and  always  to  do  ladies,  darnosels,  and  gentlewomen  service, 
upon  pain  of  death.  Also  that  no  man  take  battle  in  a  wrong 
ful  quarrel,  for  no  law,  nor  for  any  world's  goods.  Unto  this 
were  all  the  knights  sworn  of  the  Table  Round,  both  old  and 
young.  And  at  every  year  were  they  sworn  at  the  high  feast 
of  Pentecost. 

KING  ARTHUR  SLAYS  THE  GIANT  OF  ST.  MICHAEL'S  MOUNT. 

While  the  army  was  encamped  in  Brittany,  awaiting  the  ar 
rival  of  the  kings,  there  came  a  countryman  to  Arthur,  and 
told  him  that  a  giant,  whose  cave  was  in  a  neighboring  moun 
tain,  called  St.  Michael's  Mount,  had  for  a  long  time  been  ac 
customed  to  carry  off  the  children  of  the  peasants,  to  devour 
them.  "And  now  he  hath  taken  the  Duchess  of  Brittany,  as 
she  rode  with  her  attendants,  and  hath  carried  her  away  in 
spite  of  all  they  could  do."  "  Now,  fellow,"  said  King  Arthur, 
"canst  thou  bring  me  there  where  this  giant  haunteth?" 
"Yea,  sure,"  said  the  good  man  ;  "lo,  yonder  where  thou  seest 
two  great  fires,  there  shalt  thou  find  him,  and  more  treasure 


ARTHUR.  59 

than  I  suppose  is  in  all  France  beside."  Then  the  king  called 
to  him  Sir  Bedver  and  Sir  Kay,  and  commanded  them  to  make 
ready  horse  and  harness  for  himself  and  them  ;  for  after  even 
ing  he  would  ride  on  pilgrimage  to  St.  Michael's  Mount. 

So  they  three'departed,  and  rode  forth  till  they  came  to  the 
foot  of  the  mount.  And  there  the  king  commanded  them  to 
tarry,  for  he  would  himself  go  up  into  that  mount.  So  he 
ascended  the  hill  till  he  came  to  a  great  fire,  and  there  he  found 
an  aged  woman  sitting  by  a  new-made  grave,  making  great 
sorrow.  Then  King  Arthur  saluted  her,  and  demanded  of  her 
wherefore  she  made  such  lamentation  ;  to  whom  she  answered  : 
"  Sir  Knight,  speak  low,  for  yonder  is  a  devil,  and  if  he  hear 
thee  speak  he  will  come  and  destroy  thee.  For  ye  cannot 
make  resistance  to  him,  he  is  so  fierce  and  so  strong.  He  hath 
murdered  the  Duchess,  which  here  lieth,  who  was  the  fairest  of 
all  the  world,  wife  to  Sir  Hoel,  Duke  of  Brittany."  "  Dame," 
said  the  king,  "I  come  from  the  noble  conqueror,  King  Arthur, 
to  treat  with  that  tyrant."  "Fie  on  such  treaties,"  said  she; 
"  he  setteth  not  by  the  king,  nor  by  no  man  else."  "  Well," 
said  Arthur,  "  I  will  .accomplish  my  message  for  all  your  fear 
ful  words."  So  he  went  forth  by  the  crest  of  the  hill,  and  saw 
where  the  giant  sat  at  supper,  gnawing  on  the  limb  of  a  man, 
and  baking  his  broad  limbs  at  the  fire,  and  three  fair  damsels 
lying  bound,  whose  lot  it  was  to  be  devoured  in  their  turn. 
When  King  Arthur  beheld  that  he  had  great  compassion  on 
them,  so  that  his  heart  bled  for  sorrow.  Then  he  hailed  the 
giant,  saying,  "  He  that  all  the  world  ruleth  give  thee  short 
life  and  shameful  death.  Why  hast  thou  murdered  this  Duch 
ess?  Therefore  come  forth,  thou  caitiff,  for  this  day  thou  shalt 
die  by  my  hand."  Then  the  giant  started  up,  and  took  a  great 
club,  and  smote  at  the  king,  and  smote  off  his  coronal ;  and 
then  the  king  struck  him  in  the  belly  with  his  sword,  and  made 
a  fearful  wound.  Then  the  giant  threw  away  his  club,  and 
caught  the  king  in  his  arms,  so  that  he  crushed  his  ribs.  Then 
the  three  maidens  kneeled  down  and  prayed  for  help  and  com 
fort  for  Arthur.  And  Arthur  weltered  and  wrenched,  so  that 
he  was  one  while  under,  and  another  time  above.  And  so  wel 
tering  and  wallowing  they  rolled  down  the  hill,  and  ever  as 


60  KING    ARTHUR   AND   HIS    KNIGHTS. 

they  weltered  Arthur  smote  him  with  his  dagger;  and  it  for 
tuned  they  came  to  the  place  where  the  two  knights  were. 
And  when  they  saw  the  king  fast  in  the  giant's  arms  they  came 
and  loosed  him.  Then  the  king  commanded  Sir  Kay  to  smite 
off  the  giant's  head,  and  to  set  it  on  the  truncheon  of  a  spear, 
and  fix  it  on  the  barbican,  that  all  the  people  might  see  and 
behold  it.  This  was  done,  and  anon  it  was  known  through  all 
the  country,  wherefor  the  people  came  and  thanked  the  king. 
And  he  said,  "  Give  your  thanks  to  God  ;  and  take  ye  the  giant's 
spoil  and  divide  it  among  you."  And  King  Arthur  caused  a 
church  to  be  builded  on  that  hill,  in  honor  of  St.  Michael. 

KING  ARTHUR  GETS  A  SWORD  FROM  THE  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE. 

One  day  King  Arthur  rode  forth,  and  on  a  sudden  he  was 
ware  of  three  churls  chasing  Merlin  to  have  slain  him.  And 
the  king  rode  unto  them  and  bade  them,  "Flee,  churls!" 
Then  were  they  afraid  when  they  saw  a  knight,  and  fled.  "  O 
Merlin,"  said  Arthur,  "  here  hadst  thou  been  slain,  for  all  thy 
crafts,  had  I  not  been  by."  "  Nay,"  said  Merlin,  "  not  so,  for 
I  could  save  myself  if  I  would ;  but  thou  art  more  near  thy 
death  than  I  am."  So,  as  they  went  thus  talking,  King  Ar 
thur  perceived  where  sat  a  knight  on  horseback,  as  if  to  guard 
the  pass.  "  Sir  knight,"  said  Arthur,  "  for  what  cause  abidest 
thou  here?"  Then  the  knight  said,  "There  may  no  knight 
ride  this  way  unless  he  joust  with  me,  for  such  is  the  custom  of 
the  pass."  "  I  will  amend  that  custom,"  said  the  king.  Then 
they  ran  together,  and  they  met  so  hard  that  their  spears  were 
shivered.  Then  they  drew  their  swords  and  fought  a  strong 
battle,  with  many  great  strokes.  But  at  length  the  sword  of 
the  knight  smote  King  Arthur's  sword  in  two  pieces.  Then 
said  the  knight  unto  Arthur,  "  Thou  art  in  my  power,  whether 
to  save  thee  or  slay  thee,  and  unless  thou  yield  thee  as  over 
come  and  recreant  thou  shalt  die."  "As  for  death,"  said  King 
Arthur,  "  welcome  be  it  when  it  cometh ;  but  to  yield  me  unto 
thee  as  recreant  I  will  not."  Then  he  leapt  upon  the  knight, 
and  took  him  by  the  middle  and  threw  him  down ;  but  the 
knight  was  a  passing  strong  man,  and  anon  he  brought  Arthur 


ARTHUR.  61 

under  him,  and  would  have  razed  off  his  helm  to  slay  him. 
Then  said  Merlin,  "  Knight,  hold  thy  hand,  for  this  knight  is  a 
man  of  more  worship  than  thou  art  aware  of."  "  Why,  who 
is  he?  "said  the  knight.  "It  is  King  Arthur."  Then  would 
he  have  slain  kirn  for  dread  of  his  wrath,  and  lifted  up  his 
sword  to  slay  him  ;  and  therewith  Merlin  cast  an  enchantment 
on  the  knight,  so  that  he  fell  to  the  earth  in  a  great  sleep. 
Then  Merlin  took  up  King  Arthur  and  set  him  on  his  horse. 
"Alas  !  "  said  Arthur,  "  what  hast  thou  done,  Merlin  ?  hast  thou 
slain  this  good  knight  by  thy  crafts  ?  "  "  Care  ye  not,"  said 
Merlin  ;  "  he  is  wholer  than  ye  be.  He  is  only  asleep,  and  will 
wake  in  three  hours." 

Right  so  the  king  and  he  departed,  and  went  unto  an  hermit 
that  was  a  good  man  and  a  great  leech.  So  the  hermit  searched 
all  his  wounds  and  gave  him  good  salves ;  so  the  king  was  there 
three  days,  and  then  were  his  wounds  well  amended  that  he 
might  ride  and  go,  and  so  departed.  And  as  they  rode  Arthur 
said,  "I  have  no  sword."  "No  force,"  said  Merlin  ;  "hereby 
is  a  sword  that  shall  be  yours."  So  they  rode  till  they  came  to 
a  lake,  the  which  was  a  fair  water  and  broad,  and  in  the  midst 
of  the  lake  Arthur  was  ware  of  an  arm  clothed  in  white  samit?, 
that  held  a  fair  sword  in  that  hand.  "  So,"  said  Merlin,  "  yon 
der  is  that  sword  that  I  spake  of."  With  that  they  saw  a 
damsel  going  upon  the  lake.  "What  damsel  is  that?"  said 
Arthur.  "  That  is  the  Lady  of  the  Lake,"  said  Merlin  ;  "  and 
within  that  lake  is  a  rock,  and  therein  is  as  fair  a  place  as  any 
on  earth,  and  richly  beseen,  and  this  damsel  will  come  to  you 
anon,  and  then  speak  ye  fair  to  her  and  she  will  give  thee  that 
sword."  Anon  withal  came  the  damsel  unto  Arthur  and 
saluted  him,  and  he  her  again.  "  Damsel,"  said  Arthur,  "  what 
sword  is  that  that  yonder  the  arm  holdeth  above  the  waves? 
I  would  it  were  mine,  for  I  have  no  sword."  "  Sir  Arthur 
king,"  said  the  damsel,  "that  sword  is  mine,  and  if  ye  will  give 
me  a  gift  when  I  ask  it  you  ye  shall  have  it."  "  By  my  faith," 
said  Arthur,  « I  will  give  ye  what  gift  ye  shall  ask."  "  Well," 
said  the  damsel,  "go  you  into  yonder  barge  and  row  yourself  to 
the  sword,  and  take  it  and  the  scabbard  with  you,  and  I  will 
ask  my  gift  when  I  see  ray  time."  So  Arthur  and  Merlin 


62  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

alighted,  and  tied  their  horses  to  two  trees,  and  so  they  went 
into  the  ship,  and  when  they  came  to  the  sword  that  the  hand 
held,  Arthur  took  it  by  the  handles,  and  took  it  with  him.  And 
the  arm  and  the  hand  went  under  the  water. 

Then  they  returned  unto  the  land  and  rode  forth.  And  Sir 
Arthur  looked  on  the  sword  and  liked  it  right  well. 

So  they  rode  unto  Caerleon,  whereof  his  knights  were  pass 
ing  glad.  And  when  they  heard  of  his  adventures  they  mar 
velled  that  he  would  jeopard  his  person  so  alone.  But  all  men 
of  worship  said  it  was  a  fine  thing  to  be  under  such  a  chieftain 
as  would  put  his  person  in  adventure  as  other  poor  knights 
did. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

CARADOC  BRIEFBRAS;  OR,  CARADOC  WITH  THE  SHRUNKEN 

ARM. 


was  the  son  of  Ysenne,  the  beautiful  niece  of 
^-J  Arthur.  He  was  ignorant  who  his  father  was,  till  it  was 
discovered  in  the  following  manner :  When  the  youth  was  of 
proper  years  to  receive  the  honors  of  knighthood,  King  Arthur 
held  a  grand  court  for  the  purpose  of  knighting  him.  On  this 
occasion  a  strange  knight  presented  himself,  and  challenged 
the  knights  of  Arthur's  court  to  exchange  blow  for  blow  with 
him.  His  proposal  was  this,  —  to  lay  his  neck  on  a  block  for 
any  knight  to  strike,  on  condition  that,  if  he  survived  the 
blow,  the  knight  should  submit  in  turn  to  the  same  experi 
ment.  Sir  Kay,  who  was  usually  ready  to  accept  all  challenges, 
pronounced  this  wholly  unreasonable,  and  declared  that  he 
would  not  accept  it  for  all  the  wealth  in  the  world.  And  when 
the  knight  offered  his  sword,  with  which  the  operation  was  to 
be  performed,  no  person  ventured  to  accept  it,  till  Caradoc, 
growing  angry  at  the  disgrace  which  was  thus  incurred  by  the 
Round  Table,  threw  aside  his  mantle  and  took  it.  "  Do  you 


64  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

do  this  as  one  of  the  best  knights  ?"  said  the  stranger.  "No," 
lie  replied,  "  but  as  one  of  the  most  foolish."  The  stranger 
lays  his  head  upon  the  block,  receives  a  blow  which  sends  it 
rolling  from  his  shoulders,  walks  after  it,  picks  it  up,  replaces 
it  with  great  success,  and  says  he  will  return  when  the  court 
shall  be  assembled  next  year,  and  claim  his  turn.  When  the 
anniversary  arrived  both  parties  were  punctual  to  their  engage 
ment.  Great  entreaties  were  used  by  the  king  and  queen,  and 
the  whole  court,  in  behalf  of  Caradoc,  but  the  stranger  was  in 
flexible.  The  young  knight  laid  his  head  upon  the  block,  and 
more  than  once  desired  him  to  make  an  end  of  the  business, 
and  not  keep  him  longer  in  so  disagreeable  a  state  of  expecta 
tion.  At  last  the  stranger  strikes  him  gently  with  the  side  of 
the  sword,  bids  him  rise,  and  reveals  to  him  the  fact  that  he  is 
his  father,  the  enchanter  Eliaures,  and  that  he  gladly  owns  him 
for  a  son,  having  proved  his  courage,  and  fidelity  to  his  word. 

But  the  favor  of  enchanters  is  short-lived  and  uncertain. 
Eliaures  fell  under  the  influence  of  a  wicked  woman,  who,  to 
satisfy  her  pique  against  Caradoc,  persuaded  the  enchanter  to 
fasten  on  his  arm  a  serpent,  which  remained  there  sucking 
at  his  flesh  and  blood,  no  human  skill  sufficing  either  to  remove 
the  reptile  or  alleviate  the  torments  which  Caradoc  endured. 

Caradoc  was  betrothed  to  Guimier,  sister  to  his  bosom  friend 
Cador,  and  daughter  to  the  king  of  Cornwall.  As  soon  as  they 
were  informed  of  his  deplorable  condition,  they  set  out  for  Nan 
tes,  where  Caradoc's  castle  was,  that  Guimier  might  attend 
upon  him.  When  Caradoc  heard  of  their  coming  his  first 
emotion  was  that  of  joy  and  love.  But  soon  he  began  to  fear 
that  the  sight  of  his  emaciated  form  and  of  his  sufferings 
would  disgust  Guimier;  and  this  apprehension  became  so 
strong  that  he  departed  secretly  from  Nantes,  and  hid  himself 
in  a  hermitage.  He  was  sought  far  and  near  by  the  knights  of 
Arthur's  court,  and  Cador  made  a  vow  never  to  desist  from 
the  quest  till  he  should  have  found  him.  After  long  wander 
ing,  Cador  discovered  his  friend  in  the  hermitage,  reduced  al 
most  to  a  skeleton,  and  apparently  near  his  death.  All  other 
means  of  relief  having  already  been  tried  in  vain,  Cador  at 
last  prevailed  on  the  enchanter  Eliaures  to  disclose  the  only 


CARADOC    BRIEFBRAS.  65 

method  which  could  avail  for  his  rescue.  A  maiden  must  be 
found,  his  equal  in  birth  arid  beauty,  and  loving  him  better 
than  herself,  so  that  she  would  expose  herself  to  the  same 
torment  to  deliver  him.  Two  vessels  were  then  to  be  provided, 
the  one  filled  witji  sour  wine  and  the  other  with  milk.  Cara- 
doc  must  enter  the  first,  so  that  the  wine  should  reach  his 
neck,  and  the  maiden  must  get  into  the  other,  and,  exposing 
her  bosom  upon  the  edge  of  the  vessel,  invite  the  serpent  to 
forsake  the  withered  flesh  of  his  victim  for  this  fresh  and  in 
viting  food.  The  vessels  were  to  be  placed  three  feet  apart, 
and  as  the  serpent  crossed  from  one  to  the  other  a  knight  was 
to  cut  him  in  two.  If  he  failed  in  his  blow,  Caradoc  would 
indeed  be  delivered,  but  it  would  only  be  to  see  his  fair  cham 
pion  suffering  the  same  cruel  and  hopeless  torment.  The 
sequel  may  be  easily  foreseen.*  Guimier  willingly  exposed  her 
self  to  the  perilous  adventure,  and  Cador,  with  a  lucky  blow, 
killed  the  serpent.  The  arm,  in  which  Caradoc  had  suffered  so 
long,  recovered  its  strength,  but  not  its  shape,  in  consequence 
of  which  he  was  called  Caradoc  Brief  bras,  Caradoc  of  the 
Shrunken  Arm. 

Caradoc  and  Guimier  are  the  hero  and  heroine  of  the  ballad 
of  the  Boy  and  the  Mantle,  which  follows. 

THE    BOY   AND   THE    MANTLE. 

In  Carlisle  dwelt  King  Arthur, 

A  prince  of  passing1  might, 
And  there  maintained  his  Table  ] 

Beset  with  many  a  knight. 

And  there  he  kept  his  Christmas, 

With  mirth  and  princely  cheer, 
When  lo !  a  strange  and  cunning  boy 

Before  him  did  appear. 

A  kirtle  and  a  mantle 

This  boy  had  him  upon, 
With  brooches,  rings,  and  ouches, 

Full  daintily  bed  one. 

He  had  a  sash  of  silk 

About  his  middle  meet ; 
And  thus  with  seemly  curtesie 

He  did  King  Arthur  greet : 


66  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS, 

"  God  speed  tliee,  brave  King  Arthur, 
Thus  feasting  in  thy  bower, 

And  Guenever,  thy  goodly  queen, 
That  fair  and  peerless  flower. 

"  Ye  gallant  lords  and  lordlings, 

I  wish  you  all  take  heed, 
Lest  what  ye  deem  a  blooming  rose 

Should  prove  a  cankered  weed." 

Then  straightway  from  his  bosom 

A  little  wand  he  drew; 
And  with  it  eke  a  mantle, 

Of  wondrous  shape  and  hue. 

"  Now  have  thou  here,  King  Arthur, 

Have  this  here  of  me, 
And  give  unto  thy  comely  queen, 

All  shapen  as  you  see. 

"No  wife  it  shall  become, 
That  once  hath  been  to  blame." 

Then  every  knight  in  Arthur's  court 
Sly  glanced  at  his  dame. 

And  first  came  Lady  Guenever, 

The  mantle  she  must  try. 
This  dame  she  was  ne  \v-fangled, 

And  of  a  roving  eye. 

When  she  had  taken  the  mantle, 

And  all  with  it  was  clad, 
From  top  to  toe  it  shivered  down, 

As  though  with  shears  beshred. 

One  while  it  was  too  long, 

Another  while  too  short, 
And  wrinkled  on  the  shoulders, 

In  most  unseemly  sort. 

Now  green,  now  red  it  seemed, 

Then  all  of  sable  hue ; 
"  Beshrew  me,"  quoth  King  Arthur, 

"  I  think  thou  be'st  not  true  !  " 

Down  she  threw  the  mantle, 
No  longer  would  she  stay ; 

But,  storming  like  a  fury, 
To  her  chamber  flung  away. 

*  New-fangled,  —  fond  of  novelty. 


CARADOC   BRIEFBRAS.  67 

She  cursed  the  rascal  weaver, 

That  had  the  mantle  wrought ; 
And  doubly  cursed  the  froward  imp 

Who  thither  had  it  brought. 

"  I  had  rather  live  in  deserts, 

Beneath  the  greenwood  tree, 
Than  here,  base  king,  among  thy  grooms, 

The  sport  of  them  and  thee." 

Sir  Kay  called  forth  his  lady, 

And  bade  her  to  come  near : 
"  Yet,  dame,  if  thou  be  guilty, 

I  pray  thee  now  forbear." 

This  lady,  pertly  giggling, 

With  forward  step  came  on, 
And  boldly  to  the  little  boy 

With  fearless  face  is  gone. 

When  she  had  taken  the  mantle, 

With  purpose  for  to  wear, 
It  shrunk  up  to  her  shoulder, 

And  left  her  back  all  bare. 

Then  every  merry  knight, 

That  was  in  Arthur's  court, 
Gibed  and  laughed  and  flouted, 

To  see  that  pleasant  sport. 

Down  she  threw  the  mantle, 

No  longer  bold  or  gay, 
But,  with  a  face  all  pale  and  wan, 

To  her  chamber  slunk  away. 

Then  forth  came  an  old  knight 

A-pattering  o'er  his  creed, 
And  proffered  to  the  little  boy 

Five  nobles  to  his  meed  : 

"  And  all  the  time  of  Christmas 

Plum-porridge  shall  be  thine, 
If  thou  wilt  let  my  lady  fair 

Within  the  mantle  shine." 

A  saint  his  lady  seemed, 

With  step  demure  and  slow, 
And  gravely  to  the  mantle 

With  mincing  face  doth  go. 


68  KING    ARTHUR    AND   HIS    KNIGHTS, 

When  she  the  same  had  taken 

That  was  so  fine  and  thin, 
It  shrivelled  all  about  her, 

And  showed  her  dainty  skin. 

Ah  !  little  did  her  mincing, 
Or  his  long  prayers  bestead ; 

She  had  no  more  hung  on  her 
Than  a  tassel  and  a  thread. 

Down  she  threw  the  mantle, 

With  terror  and  dismay, 
And  with  a  face  of  scarlet 

To  her  chamber  hied  away. 

Sir  Cradock  called  his  lady, 
And  bade  her  to  come  near; 

"  Come  win  this  mantle,  lady, 
And  do  me  credit  here  : 

"  Come  win  this  mantle,  lady, 

For  now  it  shall  be  thine, 
If  thou  hast  never  done  amiss, 

Since  first  I  made  thee  mine." 

The  lady,  gently  blushing, 

With  modest  grace  came  on ; 
And  now  to  try  the  wondrous  charm 

Courageously  is  gone. 

When  she  had  ta'en  the  mantle, 

And  put  it  on  her  back, 
About  the  hem  it  seemed 

To  wrinkle  and  to  crack. 

"Lie  still,"  she  cried,  "O  mantle! 

And  shame  me  not  for  naught ; 
I'll  freely  own  whate'er  amiss 

Or  blameful  I  have  wrought. 

"  Once  I  kissed  Sir  Cradock 
Beneath  the  greenwood  tree ; 

Once  I  kissed  Sir  Cradock's  mouth, 
Before  he  married  me." 

When  she  had  thus  her  shriven, 
And  her  worst  fault  had  told, 

The  mantle  soon  became  her, 
Right  comely  as  it  should. 


CARADOC    BRIEFBRAS.  J 

• 
Most  rich  and  fair  of  color, 

Like  gold  it  glittering  shone, 
And  much  the  knights  in  Arthur's  court 

Admired  her  every  one. 

The  ballad  'goes  on  to  tell  of  two  more  trials  of  a  similar 
kind,  made  by  means  of  a  boar's  head  and  a  drinking-horn,  in 
both  of  which  the  result  was  equally  favorable  with  the  first 
to  Sir  Cradock  and  his  lady.  It  then  concludes  as  follows  :  — 

Thus  boar's  head,  horn,  and  mantle 

Were  this  fair  couple's  meed ; 
And  all  such  constant  lovers, 

God  send  them  well  to  speed. 

Percy's  Reliques. 


CHAPTER  V. 

SIR  GAWAIN. 

SIR  GAWAIN  was  nephew  to  King  Arthur,  by  his  sister 
Morgana,  married  to  Lot,  king  of  Orkney,  who  was  by 
Arthur  made  king  of  Norway.  Sir  Gawain  was  one  of  the 
most  famous  knights  of  the  Round  Table,  and  is  characterized 
by  the  romancers  as  the  sage  and  courteous  Gawain.  To  this 
Chaucer  alludes  in  his  "  Squiere's  Tale,"  where  the  strange 
knight  "  saluteth  "  all  the  court  — 

"  With  so  high  reverence  and  observance, 
As  well  in  speeche  as  in  countenance, 
That  Gawain,  with  his  olde  curtesie, 
Though  he  were  come  agen  out  of  faerie, 
Ne  coude  him  not  amenden  with  a  word." 

Gawain's  brothers  were  Agravain,  Gahnret,  and  Gareth. 


SIR  GAWAIN'S  MARRIAGE. 

Once   upon   a  time    King  Arthur  held  his  court  in  merry 
Carlisle,  when  a  damsel  came  before  him  and  craved  a  boon. 
70 


SIR    GAWAIN.  71 

It  was  for  vengeance  upon  a  caitiff  knight,  who  had  made  her 
lover  captive  and  despoiled  her  of  her  lands.  King  Arthur 
commanded  to  bring  him  his  sword,  Excalibar,  and  to  saddle 
his  steed,  and  rode  forth  without  delay  to  right  the  lady's 
wrong.  Ere  long  he  reached  the  castle  of  the  grim  baron,  and 
challenged  him  to  the  conflict.  But  the  castle  stood  on  magic 
ground,  and  the  spell  was  such  that  no  knight  could  tread 
thereon  but  straight  his  courage  fell  and  his  strength  decayed. 
King  Arthur  felt  the  charm,  and  before  a  blow  was  struck  his 
sturdy  limbs  lost  their  strength,  and  his  head  grew  faint.  He 
was  fain  to  yield  himself  prisoner  to  the  churlish  knight,  who 
refused  to  release  him  except  upon  condition  that  he  should 
return  at  the  end  of  a  year,  and  bring  a  true  answer  to  the 
question,  "What  thing  is  it  which  women  most  desire?"  or  in 
default  thereof  surrender  himself  and  his  lands.  King  Arthur 
accepted  the  terms,  and  gave  his  oath  to  return  at  the  time  ap 
pointed.  During  the  year  the  king  rode  east,  and  he  rode  west, 
and  inquired  of  all  whom  lie  met  what  thing  it  is  which  all 
women  most  desire.  Some  told  him  riches;  some  pomp  and 
state  ;  some  mirth  ;  some  flattery  ;  and  some  a  gallant  knight. 
But  in  the  diversity  of  answers  he  could  find  no  sure  depend 
ence.  The  year  was  well  nigh  spent  when,  one  day,  as  he  rode 
thoughtfully  through  a  forest,  he  saw  sitting  beneath  a  tree  a 
lady  of  such  hideous  aspect  that  he  turned  away  his  eyes,  and 
when  she  greeted  him  in  seemly  sort  made  no  answer.  "  What 
wight  art  thou,"  the  lady  said,  "that  will  not  speak  to  me? 
It  may  chance  that  I  may  resolve  thy  doubts,  though  I  be  not 
fair  of  aspect."  "  If  thou  wilt  do  so,"  said  King  Arthur, 
"choose  what  reward  thou  wilt,  thou  grim  lady,  and  it  shall  be 
given  thee."  "Swear  me  this  upon  thy  faith,"  she  said,  and 
Arthur  swore  it.  Then  the  lady  told  him  the  secret,  and  de 
manded  her  reward,  which  was  that  the  king  should  find  some 
fair  and  courtly  knight  to  be  her  husband. 

King  Arthur  hastened  to  the  grim  baron's  castle  and  told 
him  one  by  one  all  the  answers  which  he  had  received  from  his 
various  advisers,  except  the  last,  and  not  one  was  admitted  as 
the  true  one.  "  Now  yield  thee,  Arthur,"  the  giant  said,  "  for 
thou  hast  not  paid  thy  ransom,  and  thou  and  thy  lands  are  for 
feited  to  me."  Then  King  Arthur  said  :  — 


72  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

"  Yet  hold  thy  hand,  thou  proud  baron, 

I  pray  thee  hold  thy  hand. 
And  give  me  leave  to  speak  once  more, 

In  rescue  of  my  land. 
This  morn,  as  I  came  over  a  moor, 

I  saw  a  lady  set, 
Between  an  oak  and  a  green  holly, 

All  clad  in  red  scarlett. 
She  says  all  women  icould  have  their  will, 

This  is  their  chief  desire  ; 
Now  yield,  as  thou  art  a  baron  true, 

That  I  have  paid  my  hire." 

"  It  was  my  sister  that  told  thee  this,"  the  churlish  baron 
exclaimed.  "Vengeance  light  on  her!  I  will  some  time  or 
other  do  her  as  ill  a  turn." 

King  Arthur  rode  homeward,  but  not  light  of  heart ;  for  he 
remembered  the  promise  he  was  under  to  the  loathly  lady  to 
give  her  one  of  his  young  and  gallant  knights  for  a  husband. 
He  told  his  grief  to  Sir  Gawain,  his  nephew,  and  he  replied, 
"  Be  not  sad,  my  lord,  for  I  will  marry  the  loathly  lady." 
King  Arthur  replied  :  — 

"Now  nay,  now  nay,  good  Sir  Gawaine, 

My  sister's  son  ye  be ; 
The  loathly  lady  's  all  too  grim, 
And  all  too  foule  for  thee." 

But  Gawain  persisted,  and  the  king  at  last,  with  sorrow  of 
heart,  consented  that  Gawain  should  be  his  ransom.  So,  one 
day,  the  king  and  his  knights  rode  to  the  forest,  met  the  loathly 
lady,  and  brought  her  to  the  court.  Sir  Gawain  stood  the 
scoffs  and  jeers  of  his  companions  as  he  best  might,  and  the 
marriage  was  solemnized,  but  not  with  the  usual  festivities. 
Chaucer  tells  us  :  — 

"  There  was  no  joye,  ne  feste  at  alle ; 
There  n'as  but  hevinesse  and  mochel  sorwe, 
For  prively  he  wed  her  on  the  morwe, 
And  all  day  after  hid  him  as  an  owle  , 
So  wo  was  him  his  wife  loked  so  foule  !  "  * 

When  night  came,  and  they  were  alone  together,  Sir  Gawain 
could  not  conceal  his  aversion  ;  and  the  lady  asked  him  why 

*  N'as  is  not  was,  contracted  ;  in  modern  phrase,  there  rcas  not.  Mochel  sorwe, 
is  much  sorrow  :  morwe  is  morrow. 


SIR    GA\VAIN.  73 

he  sighed  so  heavily,  and  turned  away  his  face.  He  candidly 
confessed  it  was  on  account  of  three  things,  her  age,  her  ugli 
ness,  and  her  low  degree.  The  lady,  not  at  all  offended,  replied 
with  excellent  .arguments  to  all  his  objections.  She  showed 
him  that  with  age  is  discretion,  with  ugliness  security  from 
rivals,  and  that  all  true  gentility  depends,  not  upon  the  acci 
dent  of  birth,  but  upon  the  character  of  the  individual. 

Sir  Gawain  made  no  reply  ;  but,  turning  his  eyes  on  his 
bride,  what  was  his  amazement  to  perceive  that  she  wore  no 
longer  the  unseemly  aspect  that  had  so  distressed  him.  She 
then  told  him  that  the  form  she  had  worn  was  not  her  true 
form,  but  a  disguise  imposed  upon  her  by  a  wicked  enchanter, 
and  that  she  was  condemned  to  wear  it  until  two  things  should 
happen  ;  one,  that  she  should  obtain  some  young  and  gallant 
knight  to  be  her  husband.  This  having  been  done,  one  half  of 
the  charm  was  removed.  She  was  now  at  liberty  to  wear  her 
true  form  for  half  the  time,  and  she  bade  him  choose  whether 
he  would  have  her  fair  by  day  and  ugly  by  night,  or  the  reverse. 
Sir  Gawain  would  fain  have  had  her  look  her  best  by  night, 
when  he  alone  should  see  her,  and  show  her  repulsive  visage, 
if  at  all,  to  others.  But  she  reminded  him  how  much  more 
pleasant  it  would  be  to  her  to  wear  her  best  looks  in  the  throng 
of  knights  and  ladies  by  day.  Sir  Gawain  yielded,  and  gave 
up  his  will  to  hers.  This  alone  was  wanting  to  dissolve  the 
charm.  The  lovely  lady  now  with  joy  assured  him  that  she 
should  change  no  more;  but  as  she  now  was  so  would  she  re 
main  by  night  as  well  as  by  day. 

"  Sweet  blushes  stayned  her  rncl-red  cheek, 

Her  eyen  were  black  as  sloe, 
The  ripening  cherrye  swelled  her  lippe. 

And  all  her  neck  was  snow. 
Sir  Gawain  kist  that  ladye  faire 

Lying-  upon  the  sheete, 
And  swore,  as  he  was  a  true  knight, 

The  spice  was  never  so  swete." 

The  dissolution  of  the  charm  which  had  held  the  lady  also 
released  her  brother,  the  "  grim  baron,"  for  he  too  had  been 
implicated  in  it.  He  ceased  to  be  a  churlish  oppressor,  and 
became  a  gallant  and  generous  knight  as  any  at  Arthur's  court. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


LAUNCELOT  OF  THE   LAKE. 

KING  BAN,  of  Brittany,  the  faithful  ally  of  Arthur,  was 
attacked  by  his  enemy  Claudas,  and,  after  a  long  war,  saw 
himself  reduced  to  the  possession  of  a  single  fortress,  where 
he  was  besieged  by  his  enemy.  In  this  extremity  he  deter 
mined  to  solicit  the  assistance  of  Arthur,  and  escaped  in  a  dark 
night,  with  his  wife  Helen  and  his  infant  son  Launcelot,  leav 
ing  his  castle  in  the  hands  of  his  seneschal,  who  immediately 
surrendered  the  place  to  Claudas.  The  flames  of  his  burning 
citadel  reached  the  eyes  of  the  unfortunate  monarch  during 
his  flight,  and  he  expired  with  grief.  The  wretched  Helen, 
leaving  her  child  on  the  brink  of  a  lake,  flew  to  receive  the 
last  sighs  of  her  husband,  and  on  returning  perceived  the  little 
Launcelot  in  the  arms  of  a  nymph,  who,  on  the  approach  of 
the  queen,  threw  herself  into  the  lake  with  the  child.  This 
nymph  was  Viviane,  mistress  of  the  enchanter  Merlin,  better 
known  by  the  name  of  the  Lady  of  the  Lake.  Launcelot  re 
ceived  his  appellation  from  having  been  educated  at  the  court 
74 


LAUNCELOT    OF    THE    LAKE.  75 

of  this  enchantress,  whose  palace  was  situated  in  the  midst,  not 
of  a  real,  but,  like  the  appearance  which  deceives  the  African 
traveller,  of  an  imaginary  lake,  whose  deluding  resemblance 
served  as  a  barrier  to  her  residence.  Here  she  dwelt  not  alone, 
but  in  the  midst  of  a  numerous  retinue,  and  a  splendid  court 
of  knights  and  damsels. 

The  queen,  after  her  double  loss,  retired  to  a  convent,  where 
she  was  joined  by  the  widow  of  Bohort,  for  this  good  king- 
had  died  of  grief  on  hearing  of  the  death  of  his  brother  Ban. 
His  two  sons,  Lionel  and  Bohort,  were  rescued  by  a  faithful 
knight,  and  arrived  in  the  shape  of  greyhounds  at  the  palace 
of  the  lake,  where,  having  resumed  their  natural  form,  they 
were  educated  along  with  their  cousin  Launcelot. 

The  fairy,  when  her  pupil  had  attained  the  age  of  eighteen, 
conveyed  him  to  the  court  of  Arthur,  for  the  purpose  of  de 
manding  his  admission  to  the  honor  of  knighthood ;  and  at  the 
first  appearance  of  the  youthful  candidate  the  graces  of  his 
person,  which  were  not  inferior  to  his  courage  and  skill  in 
arms,  made  an  instantaneous  and  indelible  impression  on  the 
heart  of  Guenever,  while  her  charms  inspired  him  with  an 
equally  ardent  and  constant  passion.  The  mutual  attachment 
of  these  lovers  exerted,  from  that  time  forth,  an  influence  over 
the  whole  history  of  Arthur.  For  the  sake  of  Guenever  Launce 
lot  achieved  the  conquest  of  Northumberland,  defeated  Gallehaut, 
King  of  the  Marches,  who  afterwards  became  his  most  faithful 
friend  and  ally,  exposed  himself  in  numberless  encounters,  and 
brought  hosts  of  prisoners  to  the  feet  of  his  sovereign. 

After  King  Arthur  was  come  from  Rome  into  England  all 
the  knights  of  the  Table  Round  resorted  unto  him,  and  made 
him  many  jousts  and  tournaments.  And  in  especial  Sir  Launce 
lot  of  the  Lake,  in  all  tournaments  and  jousts  and  deeds  of 
arms,  both  for  life  and  death,  passed  all  other  knights,  and  was 
never  overcome,  except  it  were  by  treason  or  enchantment ; 
and  he  increased  marvellously  in  worship,  wherefore  Queen 
Guenever  had  him  in  great  favor,  above  all  other  knights. 
And  for  certain  he  loved  the  queen  again  above  all  other 
ladies ;  and  for  her  he  did  many  deeds  of  arms,  and  saved  her 
from  peril  through  his  noble  chivalry.  Thus  Sir  Launcelot 


76  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

rested  him  long  with  play  and  game,  and  then  he  thought  to- 
prove  himself  in  strange  adventures  ;  so  he  bade  his  nephew, 
Sir  Lionel,  to  make  him  ready,  —  "  for  we  two  will  seek  adven 
tures."  So  they  mounted  on  their  horses,  armed  at  all  sights, 
and  rode  into  a  forest,  and  so  into  a  deep  plain.  And  the 
weather  was  hot  about  noon,  and  Sir  Launcelot  had  great  de 
sire  to  sleep.  Then  Sir  Lionel  espied  a  great  apple-tree  that 
stood  by  a  hedge,  and  he  said  :  "  Brother,  yonder  is  a  fail- 
shadow,  —  there  may  we  rest  us  and  our  horses."  "  It  is  well 
said,"  replied  Sir  Launcelot.  So  they  there  alighted,  and  Sir 
Launcelot  laid  him  down,  and  his  helm  under  his  head,  and 
soon  was  asleep  passing  fast.  And  Sir  Lionel  waked  while  he 
slept.  And  presently  there  came  three  knights  riding  as  fast 
as  ever  they  might  ride,  and  there  followed  them  but  one 
knight.  And  Sir  Lionel  thought  he  never  saw  so  great  a  knight 
before.  So  within  a  while  this  great  knight  overtook  one  of 
those  knights,  and  smote  him  so  that  he  fell  to  the  earth.  Then 
he  rode  to  the  second  knight  and  smote  him,  and  so  he  did  to 
the  third  knight.  Then  he  alighted  down,  and  bound  all  the 
three  knights  fast  with  their  own  bridles.  When  Sir  Lionel 
saw  him  do  thus  he  thought  to  assay  him,  and  made  him 
ready,  silently,  not  to  awake  Sir  Launcelot,  and  rode  after  the 
strong  knight,  and  bade  him  turn.  And  the  other  smote  Sir 
Lionel  so  hard  that  horse  and  man  fell  to  the  earth ;  and  then 
he  alighted  down,  and  bound  Sir  Lionel,  and  threw  him  across 
his  own  horse ;  and  so  he  served  them  all  four,  and  rode  with 
them  away  to  his  own  castle.  And  when  he  came  there,  he 
put  them  in  a  deep  prison,  in  which  were  many  more  knights 
in  great  distress. 

Now  while  Sir  Launcelot  lay  under  the  apple-tree  sleeping 
there  came  by  him  four  queens  of  great  estate.  And  that  the 
heat  should  not  grieve  them,  there  rode  four  knights  about 
them,  and  bare  a  cloth  of  green  silk,  on  four  spears,  betwixt 
them  and  the  sun.  And  the  queens  rode  on  four  white 
mules. 

Thus  as  they  rode  they  heard  by  them  a  great  horse  grimly 
neigh.  Then  they  were  aware  of  a  sleeping  knight,  that  lay 
all  armed  under  an  apple-tree ;  and  as  the  queens  looked  on 


LAUNCELOT    OF    THE    LAKE.  77 

his  face  they  knew  it  was  Sir  Launcelot.  Then  they  began  to 
strive  for  that  knight,  and  each  one  said  she  would  have  him 
for  her  love.  "  We  will  not  strive,"  said  Morgane  le  Fay,  that 
was  King  Arthur's  sister,  "  for  I  will  put  an  enchantment  upon 
him,  that  he  shall  not  wake»for  six  hours,  and  we  will  take  him 
away  to  my  castle ;  and  then  when  he  is  surely  within  my  hold 
I  will  take  the  enchantment  from  him,  and  then  let  him  choose 
which  of  us  he  will  have  for  his  love."  So  the  enchantment 
was  cast  upon  Sir  Launcelot.  And  then  they  laid  him  upon 
his  shield,  and  bare  him  so  on  horseback  between  two  knights, 
and  brought  him  unto  the  castle  and  laid  him  in  a  chamber, 
and  at  night  they  sent  him  his  supper. 

And  on  the  morning  came  early  those  four  queens,  richly 
dight,  and  bade  him  good  morning,  and  he  them  again.  "  Sir 
knight,"  they  said,  "  thou  must  understand  that  thou  art  our 
prisoner ;  and  we  know  thee  well,  that  thou  art  Sir  Launcelot 
of  the  Lake,  King  Ban's  son,  and  that  thou  art  the  noblest 
knight  living.  And  we  know  well  that  there  can  no  lady  have 
thy  love  but  one,  and  that  is  Queen  Guenever ;  and  now  thou 
shalt  lose  her  forever,  and  she  thee  ;  and  therefore  it  behooveth 
thee  now  to  choose  one  of  us.  I  am  the  Queen  Morgane  le  Fay, 
and  here  is  the  Queen  of  North  Wales,  and  the  Queen  of  East- 
land,  and  the  Queen  of  the  Isles.  Now  choose  one  of  us  which 
thou  wilt  have,  for  if  thou  choose  not  in  this  prison  thou  shalt 
die."  "  This  is  a  hard  case,"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "  that  either  I 
must  die  or  else  choose  one  of  you ;  yet  had  I  liever  to  die  in 
this  prison  with  worship  than  to  have  one  of  you  for  my  para 
mour,  for  ye  be  false  enchantresses."  "  Well,"  said  the  queens, 
"  is  this  your  answer,  that  ye  will  refuse  us  ?  "  "  Yea,  on  my 
life  -it  is,"  said  Sir  Launcelot.  Then  they  departed,  making 
great  sorrow. 

Then  at  noon  came  a  damsel  unto  him  with  his  dinner,  and 
asked  him,  "  What  cheer?"  "Truly,  fair  damsel,"  said  Sir 
Launcelot,  "  never  so  ill."  "  Sir,"  said  she,  "  if  you  will  be 
ruled  by  me,  I  will  help  you  out  of  this  distress.  If  ye  will 
promise  me  to  help  my  father  on  Tuesday  next,  who  hath  made 
a  tournament  betwixt  him  and  the  king  of  North  Wales ;  for 
the  last  Tuesday  my  father  lost. the  field."  "Fair  maiden," 


78  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

said  Sir  Launcelot,  "  tell  me  wliat  is  your  father's  name,  and 
then  will  I  give  you  an  answer."  "  Sir  knight,"  she  said  "  my 
father  is  King  Bagdemagus."  "I  know  him  well,"  said  Sir 
Launcelot,  "  for  a  noble  king  and  a  good  knight,  and,  by  the 
faith  of  my  body,  I  will  be  ready  to  do  your  father  and  you 
service  at  that  day." 

So  she  departed,  and  came  on  the  next  morning  early  and 
found  him  ready,  and  brought  him  out  of  twelve  locks,  and 
brought  him  to  his  own  horse,  and  lightly  he  saddled  him,  and 
so  rode  forth. 

And  on  the  Tuesday  next  he  came  to  a  little  wood  where  the 
tournament  should  be.  And  there  were  scaffolds  and  holds, 
that  lords  and  ladies  might  look  on.  and  give  the  prize.  Then 
came  into  the  field  the  king  of  North  Wales,  with  eightscore 
helms,  and  King  Bagdemagus  came  with  fourscore  helms. 
And  then  they  couched  their  spears,  and  came  together  with  a 
great  dash,  and  there  were  overthrown  at  the  first  encounter 
twelve  of  King  Bagdemagus's  party  and  six  of  the  king  of 
North  Wales's  party,  and  King  Bagdemagus's  party  had  the 
worse. 

With  that  came  Sir  Launcelot  of  the  Lake,  and  thrust  in 
with  his  spear  in  the  thickest  of  the  press  ;  and  he  smote  down 
five  knights  ere  he  held  his  hand ;  and  he  smote  down  the  king 
of  North  Wales,  and  he  brake  his  thigh  in  that  fall.  And  then 
the  knights  of  the  king  of  North  Wales  would  joust  no  more  ; 
and  so  the  gree  was  given  to  King  Bagdemagus. 

And  Sir  Launcelot  rode  forth  with  King  Bagdemagus  unto 
his  castle ;  and  there  he  had  passing  good  cheer,  both  with  the 
king  and  with  his  daughter.  And  on  the  morn  he  took  his 
leave,  and  told  the  king  he  would  go  and  seek  his  brother,  Sir 
Lionel,  that  went  from  him  when  he  slept.  So  he  departed, 
and  by  adventure  he  came  to  the  same  forest  where  he  was 
taken  sleeping.  And  in  the  highway  he  met  a  damsel  riding 
on  a  white  palfrey,  and  they  saluted  each  other.  "  Fair  damsel," 
said  Sir  Launcelot,  "know  ye  in  this  country  any  adven 
tures  ? "  "  Sir  knight,"  said  the  damsel,  "here  are  adventures 
near  at  hand,  if  thou  durst  pursue  them."  "  Why  should  I 
not  prove  adventures?"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "since  for  that 


LAUNCELOT    OF    THE    LAKE.  79 

came  I  hither."  "Sir,"  said  she,  "hereby  dwelleth  a  knight 
that  will  not  be  overmatched  for  any  man  I  know,  except  tliou 
overmatch  him.  His  name  is  Sir  Turquine,  and,  as  I  under 
stand,  he  is  a  deadly  enemy  of  King  Arthur,  and  he  has  in  his 
prison  good  knights  of  Arthur's  court  threescore  and  more, 
that  he  hath  won  with  his  own  hands."  "Damsel,"  said  Launce- 
lot,  "I  pray  you  bring  me  unto  this  knight."  So  she  told  him, 
u  Hereby,  within  this  mile,  is  his  castle,  and  by  it  on  the  left 
hand  is  a  ford  for  horses  to  drink  of,  and  over  that  ford  there 
groweth  a  fair  tree,  and  on  that  tree  hang  many  shields 
that  good  knights  wielded  aforetime,  that  are  now  prisoners : 
and  on  the  tree  hangeth  a  basin  of  copper  and  latten,  and  if 
thou  strike  upon  that  basin  thou  shalt  hear  tidings."  And  Sir 
Launcelot  departed,  and  rode  as  the  damsel  had  shown  him, 
and  shortly  he  came  to  the  ford,  and  the  tree  where  hung  the 
shields  and  basin.  And  among  the  shields  he  saw  Sir  Lionel's 
and  Sir  Hector's  shield,  besides  many  others  of  knights  that  he 
knew. 

Then  Sir  Launcelot  struck  on  the  basin  with  the  butt  of  his 
spear ;  and  long  he  did  so,  but  he  saw  no  man.  And  at  length 
he  was  ware  of  a  great  knight  that  drove  a  horse  before  him, 
and  across  the  horse  there  lay  an  armed  knight  bounden.  And  as 
they  came  near  Sir  Launcelot  thought  he  should  know  the  cap 
tive  knight.  Then  Sir  Launcelot  saw  that  it  was  Sir  Gaheris, 
Sir  Ga wain's  brother,  a  knight  of  the  Table  Round.  "  Now, 
fair  knight,"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "  put  that  wounded  knight  off 
the  horse,  and  let  him  rest  awhile,  and  let  us  two  prove  our 
strength.  For,  as  it  is  told  me,  thou  hast  done  great  despite 
and  shame  unto  knights  of  the  Round  Table,  therefore  now 
defend  thee."  "  If  thou  be  of  the  Table  Round,"  said  Sir  Tur 
quine,  "  I  defy  thee  and  all  thy  fellowship."  "That  is  over 
much  said,"  said  Sir  Launcelot. 

Then  they  put  their  spears  in  the  rests,  and  came  together 
with  their  horses  as  fast  as  they  might  run.  And  each  smote 
the  other  in  the  middle  of  their  shields,  so  that  their  horses 
fell  under  them,  and  the  knights  were  both  staggered ;  and  as 
soon  as  they  could  clear  their  horses,  they  drew  out  their 
.swords  and  came  together  eagerly,  and  each  gave  the  other 


80  KING    ARTHUR   AND   HIS   KNIGHTS. 

many  strong  strokes,  for  neither  shield  nor  harness  might 
withstand  their  strokes.  So  within  a  while  both  had  grimly 
wounds,  and  bled  grievously.  Then  at  the  last  they  were 
breathless  both,  and  stood  leaning  upon  their  swords.  "Now, 
fellow,"  said  Sir  Turquine,  "thou  art  the  stoutest  man  that 
ever  I  met  with,  and  best  breathed  ;  and  so  be  it  thou  be  not 
the  knight  that  I  hate  above  all  other  knights,  the  knight  that 
slew  my  brother,  Sir  Caradoc,  I  will  gladly  accord  with  thee  ; 
and  for  thy  love  I  will  deliver  all  the  prisoners  that  I  have." 

"What  knight  is  he  that  thou  hatest  so  above  others?" 
"  Truly,"  said  Sir  Turquine,  "  his  name  is  Sir  Launcelot  of  the 
Lake."  "  I  am  Sir  Launcelot  of  the  Lake,  King  Ban's  son  of 
Ben  wick,  and  very  knight  of  the  Table  Round ;  and  now  I 
defy  thee  do  thy  best."  "Ah  ! "  said  Sir  Turquine,  " Launce 
lot,  thou  art  to  me  the  most  welcome  that  ever  was  knight ; 
for  we  shall  never  part  till  the  one  of  us  be  dead."  And  then 
they  hurtled  together  like  two  wild  bulls,  rashing  and  lashing 
with  their  swords  and  shields,  so  that  sometimes  they  fell,  as  it 
were,  headlong.  Thus  they  fought  two  hours  and  more,  till 
the  ground  where  they  fought  was  all  bepurpled  with  blood. 

Then  at  the  last  Sir  Turquine  wraxed  sore  faint,  and  gave 
somewhat  aback,  and  bare  his  shield  full  low  for  weariness. 
That  spied  Sir  Launcelot,  and  lept  then  upon  him  fiercely  as  a 
lion,  and  took  him  by  the  beaver  of  his  helmet,  and  drew  him 
down  on  his  knees.  And  he  rased  off  his  helm,  and  smote  his 
neck  in  sunder. 

And  Sir  Gaheris,  when  he -saw  Sir  Turquine  slain,  said, 
"  Fair  lord,  I  pray  you  tell  me  your  name,  for  this  day  I  say 
ye  are  the  best  knight  in  the  world,  for  ye  have  slain  this  day 
in  my  sight  the  mightiest  man  and  the  best  knight  except  you 
that  ever  I  saw."  "  Sir,  my  name  is  Sir  Launcelot  du  Lac,, 
that  ought  to  help  you  of  right  for  King  Arthur's  sake,  and  in 
especial  for  Sir  Gawain's  sake,  your  own  dear  brother.  Now  I 
pray  you,  that  ye  go  into  yonder  castle,  and  set  free  all  the 
prisoners  ye  find  there,  for  I  am  sure  ye  shall  find  there  many 
knights  of  the  Table  Round,  and  especially  my  brother  Sir 
Lionel.  I  pray  you  greet  them  all  from  me,  and  tell  them  I 
bid  them  take  there  such  stuff  as  they  find  ;  and  tell  my 


LAUNCELOT    OF    THE    LAKE.  81 

brother  to  go  unto  the  court  and  abide  me  there,  for  by  the 
feast  of  Pentecost  I  think  to  be  there  ;  but  at  this  time  I  may 
not  stop,  for  I  have  adventures  on  hand."  So  he  departed,, 
and  Sir  Gaheris-  rode  into  the  castle,  and  took  the  keys  from 
the  porter,  and  hastily  opened  the  prison  door  and  let  out  all 
the  prisoners.  There  was  Sir  Kay,  Sir  Brandeles,  and  Sir 
Galynde,  Sir  Bryan  and  Sir  Alyduke,  Sir  Hector  de  Marys 
and  Sir  Lionel,  and  many  more.  And  when  they  saw  Sir 
Gaheris,  they  all  thanked  him,  for  they  thought,  because  he 
was  wounded,  that  he  had  slain  Sir  Turquine.  "Not  so,"  said 
Sir  Gaheris ;  "  it  was  Sir  Launcelot  that  slew  him,  right  worship- 
fully  ;  I  saw  it  with  mine  eyes." 

Sir  Launcelot  rode  till  at  nightfall  he  came  to  a  fair  castle, 
and  therein  he  found  an  old  gentlewoman,  who  lodged  him 
with  good-will,  and  there  he  had  good  cheer  for  him  and  his 
horse.  And  when  time  was,  his  host  brought  him  to  a  fair 
chamber  over  the  gate  to  his  bed.  Then  Sir  Launcelot  un 
armed  him,  and  set  his  harness  by  him,  and  went  to  bed,  and 
anon  he  fell  asleep.  And  soon  after,  there  came  one  on  horse 
back  and  knocked  at  the  gate  in  great  haste  ;  and  when  Sir 
Launcelot  heard  this,  he  arose  and  looked  out  of  the  window, 
and  saw  by  the  moonlight  three  knights  riding  after  that  one 
man,  and  all  three  lashed  on  him  with  their  swords,  and  that 
one  knight  turned  on  them  knightly  again  and  defended  him 
self.  "  Truly,"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "  yonder  one  knight  will  I 
help,  for  it  is  shame  to  see  three  knights  on  one."  Then  lie 
took  his  harness  and  went  out  at  the  window  by  a  sheet  down 
to  the  four  knights;  and  he  said  aloud,  "Turn  you  knights 
unto  me,  and  leave  your  fighting  with  that  knight."  Then 
the  knights  left  Sir  Kay,  for  it  was  he  they  were  upon,  and 
turned  unto  Sir  Launcelot,  and  struck  many  great  strokes  at 
Sir  Launcelot,  and  assailed  him  on  every  side.  Then  Sir  Kay 
addressed  him  to  help  Sir  Launcelot,  but  he  said,  "  Nay,  sir,  I 
will  none  of  your  help  ;  let  me  alone  with  them."  So  Sir  Kay 
suffered  him  to  do  his  will,  and  stood  one  side.  And  within 
six  strokes,  Sir  Launcelot  had  stricken  them  down. 

Then  they  all  cried,  "Sir  knight,  we  yield  us  unto  you." 
"  As  to  that,"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "  I  will  not  take  your  yield- 


82  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

ing  unto  me.  If  so  be  ye  will  yield  you  unto  Sir  Kay  the 
seneschal,  I  will  save  your  lives,  but  else  not."  "Fair 
knight,"  then  they  said,  "  we  will  do  as  thou  command est  us." 
"  Then  shall  ye,"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "  on  Whitsunday  next, 
go  unto  the  court  of  King  Arthur,  and  there  shall  ye  yield  you 
unto  Queen  Guenever,  and  say  that  Sir  Kay  sent  you  thither 
to  be  her  prisoners."  "  Sir,"  they  said,  "  it  shall  be  done,  by 
the  faith  of  our  bodies  ; "  and  then  they  swore,  every  knight 
upon  his  sword.  And  so  Sir  Launcelot  suffered  them  to 
depart. 

On  the  morn  Sir  Launcelot  rose  early  and  left  Sir  Kay 
sleeping;  and  Sir  Launcelot  took  Sir  Kay's  armor  and  his 
shield,  and  armed  him,  and  went  to  the  stable  and  took  his 
horse,  and  so  he  departed.  Then  soon  after  arose  Sir  Kay  and 
missed  Sir  Launcelot.  And  then  he  espied  that  he  had  taken 
his  armor  and  his  horse.  "Now,  by  my  faith,  I  know  well," 
said  Sir  Kay,  "that  he  will  grieve  some  of  King  Arthur's 
knights,  for  they  will  deem  that  it  is  I,  and  will  be  bold  to 
meet  him.  But  by  cause  of  his  armor  I  am  sure  I  shall  ride  in 
peace."  Then  Sir  Kay  thanked  his  host  and  departed. 

Sir  Launcelot  rode  in  a  deep  forest,  and  there  he  saw  four 
knights  under  an  oak,  and  they  were  of  Arthur's  court.  There 
was  Sir  Sagramour  le  Desirus  and  Hector  de  Marys,  and  Sir 
Gawain  and  Sir  Uwaine.  As  they  spied  Sir  Launcelot,  they 
judged  by  his  arms  it  had  been  Sir  Kay.  "  Now,  by  my  faith," 
said  Sir  Sagramour,  "  I  will  prove  Sir  Kay's  might ; "  and  got 
his  spear  in  his  hand,  and  came  toward  Sir  Launcelot.  There 
with  Sir  Launcelot  couched  his  spear  against  him,  and  smote 
Sir  Sagramour  so  sore  that  horse  and  man  fell  both  to  the 
earth.  Then  said  Sir  Hector,  "Now  shall  ye  see  what  I  may 
do  with  him."  But  he  fared  worse  than  Sir  Sagramour,  for 
Sir  Launcelot's  spear  went  through  his  shoulder  and  bare  him 
from  his  horse  to  the  ground.  "By  my  faith,"  said  Sir  Uwaine, 
"  yonder  is  a  strong  knight,  and  I  fear  he  hath  slain  Sir  Kay, 
and  taken  his  armor."  And  therewith  Sir  Uwaine  took  his 
spear  in  hand,  and  rode  toward  Sir  Launcelot ;  and  Sir 
Launcelot  met  him  on  the  plain  and  gave  him  such  a  buffet 
that  he  was  staggered,  and  wist  not  where  he  was.  "  Now  see 


LAUNCELOT    OF    THE    LAKE.  83 

I  well,"  said  Sir  Gawain,  "that  I  must  encounter  with  that 
knight."  Then  he  adjusted  his  shield,  and  took  a  good  spear 
in  his  hand,  and  Sir  Launcelot  knew  him  well.  Then  they  let 
run  their  horses  with  all  their  mights,  and  each  knight  smote 
the  other  in  the  middle  of»his  shield.  But  Sir  Gawain's  spear 
broke,  and  Sir  Launcelot  charged  so  sore  upon  him  that  his 
horse  fell  over  backward.  Then  Sir  Launcelot  rode  away 
smiling  with  himself,  and  he  said,  "  Good  luck  be  with  him 
that  made  this  spear,  for  never  came  a  better  into  my  hand." 
Then  the  four  knights  went  each  to  the  other  and  comforted 
one  another.  "  What  say  ye  to  this  adventure,"  said  Sir 
Gawain,  "that  one  spear  hath  felled  us  all  four?"  "I  dare 
lay  my  head  it  is  Sir  Launcelot,"  said  Sir  Hector;  "I  know  it 
by  his  riding." 

And  Sir  Launcelot  rode  through  many  strange  countries,  till, 
by  fortune,  he  came  to  a  fair  castle  ;  and  as  he  passed  beyond  the 
castle,  he  thought  he  heard  two  bells  ring.  And  then  he 
perceived  how  a  falcon  came  flying  over  his  head  toward  a 
high  elm ;  and  she  had  long  lunys  *  about  her  feet,  and  she 
flew  unto  the  elm  to  take  her  perch,  and  the  lunys  got  en 
tangled  in  a  bough ;  and  when  she  would  have  taken  her 
flight,  she  hung  by  the  legs  fast,  and  Sir  Launcelot  saw  how 
she  hung  and  beheld  the  fair  falcon  entangled,  and  he  was 
sorry  for  her.  Then  came  a  lady  out  of  the  castle  and  cried 
aloud,  "  O  Launcelot,  Launcelot,  as  thou  art  the  flower  of  all 
knights,  help  me  to  get  my  hawk;  for  if  my  hawk  be  lost,  my 
lord  will  slay  me,  he  is  so  hasty."  "  What  is  your  lord's 
name?"  said  Sir  Launcelot.  "His  name  is  Sir  Phelot,  a 
knight  that  belongeth  to  the  king  of  North  Wales."  "  Well, 
fair  lady,  since  ye  know  my  name,  and  require  me  of  knight 
hood  to  help  you,  I  will  do  what  I  may  to  get  your  hawk ;  and 
yet,  in  truth,  I  am  an  ill  climber  and  the  tree  is  passing  high 
and  few  boughs  to  help  me."  And  therewith  Sir  Launcelot 
alighted  and  tied  his  horse  to  a  tree,  and  prayed  the  lady  to 
unarm  him.  And  when  he  was  unarmed,  he  put  off  his  jerkin, 
and  with  might  and  force  he  clomb  up  to  the  falcon,  and  tied' 
the  lunys  to  a  rotten  bough,  and  threw  the  hawk  down  with  it; 

*  Lunys,  the  string  with  which  the  falcon  is  held. 


84  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

and  the  lady  got  the  hawk  in  her  hand.  Then  suddenly  there 
came  out  of  the  castle  her  husband  all  armed,  and  with  his 
naked  sword  in  his  hand,  and  said,  "  O  Knight  Launcelot,  now 
have  I  got  thee  as  I  would ;  "  and  stood  at  the  boll  of  the  tree 
to  slay  him.  "Ah,  lady  !  "  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "why  have  ye 
betrayed  me  ?  "  "  She  hath  done,"  said  Sir  Phelot,  "  but  as  I 
commanded  her;  and  therefore  there  is  none  other  way  but 
thine  hour  is  come,  and  thou  must  die."  "  That  were  shame 
unto  thee,"  said  Sir  Launcelot;  "thou  an  armed  knight  to  slay 
a  naked  man  by  treason."  "  Thou  gettest  none  other  grace," 
said  Sir  Phelot,  "  and  therefore  help  thyself  if  thou  canst." 
"  Alas ! "  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "  that  ever  a  knight  should  die 
weaponless  !  "  Arid  therewith  he  turned  his  eyes  upward  and 
downward;  and  over  his  head  he  saw  a  big  bough  leafless, 
and  he  brake  it  off  from  the  trunk.  And  then  he  came  lower, 
and  watched  how  his  own  horse  stood  ;  and  suddenly  he  leapt  on 
the  further  side  of  his  horse  from  the  knight.  Then  Sir  Phelot 
lashed  at  him  eagerly,  meaning  to  have  slain  him.  But  Sir 
Launcelot  put  away  the  stroke  with  the  big  bough,  and  smote 
Sir  Phelot  therewith  on  the  side  of  the  head,  so  that  he  fell 
down  in  a  swoon  to  the  ground.  Then  Sir  Launcelot  took  his 
sword  out  of  his  hand  and  struck  his  head  from  the  body. 
Then  said  the  lady,  "  Alas  !  why  hast  thou  slain  my  husband  ?" 
"I  am  not  the  cause,"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "for  with  falsehood 
ye  would  have  slain  me,  and  now  it  is  fallen  on  yourselves." 
Thereupon  Sir  Launcelot  got  all  his  armor  and  put  it  upon 
him  hastily  for  fear  of  more  resort,  for  the  knight's  castle  was 
so  nigh.  And  as  soon  as  he  might,  he  took  his  horse  and 
departed,  and  thanked  God  he  had  escaped  that  adventure. 

And  two  days  before  the  feast  of  Pentecost,  Sir  Launcelot 
came  home  ;  and  the  king  and  all  the  court  were  passing  glad 
of  his  coming.  And  when  Sir  Gawain,  Sir  Uwaine,  Sir  Sag- 
ramour,  and  Sir  Hector  de  Marys  saw  Sir  Launcelot  in  Sir 
Kay's  armor,  then  they  wist  well  it  was  he  that  smote  them 
down,  all  with  one  spear.  Then  there  was  laughing  and 
merriment  among  them ;  and  from  time  to  time  came  all  the 
knights  that  Sir  Turquine  had  prisoners,  and  they  all  honored 
and  worshipped  Sir  Launcelot.  Then  Sir  Gaheris  said,  "I  saw 


LAUNCELOT    OF    THE    LAKE.  85 

all  the  battle  from  the  beginning  to  the  end,"  and  he  told  King 
Arthur  all  how  it  was.  Then  Sir  Kay  told  the  king  how  Sir 
Launcelot  had  rescued  him,  and  how  he  "made  the  knights 
yield  to  me,  and  not  to  him."  And  there  they  were,  all  three, 
nnd  confirmed  it  all.  "^And,  by  my  faith,"  said  Sir  Kay, 
"  because  Sir  Launcelot  took  my  harness  and  left  me  his,  I 
rode  in  peace,  and  no  man  would  have  to  do  with  me." 

And  so  at  that  time  Sir  Launcelot  had  the  greatest  name  of 
any  knight  of  the  world,  and  most  was  he  honored  of  high  and 
low. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

THE   STORY   OF  LAUNCELOT.  —  THE   ADVENTURE   OF   THE 

CART. 

SO  it  befell  in  the  month  of  May,  Queen  Guenever  called 
unto  her  knights  of  the  Table  Round,  and  she  gave  them 
warning  that  early  upon  the  morrow  she  would  ride  on  maying 
into  the  woods  and  fields  beside  Westminster.  "And  I  warn 
you  that  there  be  none  of  you  but  that  he  be  well  horsed, 
and  that  ye  be  all  clothed  in  green,  either  in  silk,  either  in 
cloth,  and  I  shall  bring  with  me  ten  ladies,  and  every  knight 
shall  have  a  lady  behind  him,  and  every  knight  shall  have  a 
squire  and  two  yeomen,  and  I  will  that  ye  all  be  well  horsed." 
So  they  made  them  ready  in  the  freshest  manner,  and  these 
were  the  names  of  the  knights :  Sir  Kay  the  seneschal,  Sir 
Agravaine,  Sir  Brandiles,  Sir  Sagramour  le  Desirus,  Sir  Dody- 
nas  le  Sauvage,  Sir  Ozanna  le  Cure  Hardy,  Sir  Ladynas  of  the 
Forest  Savage,  Sir  Perseant  of  Inde,  Sir  Ironside  that  was 
called  the  knight  of  the  red  lawns,  and  Sir  Pelleas  the  lover ; 
and  these  ten  knights  made  them  ready  in  the  freshest  manner 
to  ride  with  the  queen.  And  so  upon  the  morn  they  took  their 


THE    STORY    OF    LAUNCELOT.  87 

horses,  with  the  queen,  and  rode  on  maying  in  woods  and 
meadows,  as  it  pleased  them,  in  great  joy  and  delight ;  for  the 
queen  had  cast  to  have  been  again  with  King  Arthur  at  the 
furthest  by  ten  of  the  clock,  and  so  was  that  time  her  purpose. 
Then  there  wa's  a  knight^that  knight  Meleagans,  and  he  was 
son  unto  King  Bagdemagus,  and  this  knight  had  at  that  time 
a  castle,  of  the  gift  of  King  Arthur,  within  seven  miles  of 
Westminster ;  and  this  knight  Sir  Meleagans  loved  passing  well 
Queen  Guenever,  and  so  had  he  done  long  and  many  years. 
And  he  had  lain  in  a  wait  for  to  steal  away  the  queen,  but 
evermore  he  forbore,  because  of  Sir  Launcelot,  for  in  no  wise 
would  he  meddle  with  the  queen  if  Sir  Launcelot  were  in  her 
company,  or  else  if  he  were  near  at  hand  to  her.  And  at 
that  time  was  such  a  custom  the  queen  rode  never  without  a 
great  fellowship  of  men  of  arms  about  her ;  and  they  were 
many  good  knights,  and  the  most  part  were  young  men  that 
would  have  worship,  and  they  were  called  the  queen's  knights, 
and  never  in  no  battle,  tournament,  nor  joust,  they  bare  none 
of  them  no  manner  of  acknowledging  of  their  own  arms,  but 
plain  white  shields,  and  thereby  they  were  called  the  queen's 
knights.  And  then  when  it  happed  any  of  them  to  be  of  great 
worship  by  his  noble  deeds,  then  at  the  next  feast  of  Pente 
cost,  if  there  were  any  slain  or  dead,  as  there  was  no  year  that 
these  failed,  but  some  were  dead,  then  was  there  chosen  in 
his  stead  the  most  men  of  worship  that  were  called  the  queen's 
knights.  And  thus  they  came  up  all  first,  or  they  were 
renowned  men  of  worship,  both  Sir  Launcelot  and  the  rem 
nant  of  them. 

But  this  knight,  Sir  Meleagans,  had  espied  the  queen  well 
and  her  purpose,  and  how  Sir  Launcelot  was  not  with  her,  and 
how  she  had  no  men  of  arms  with  her  but  the  ten  noble  knights  all 
arrayed  in  green  for  maying.  Then  he  provided  him  a  twenty 
men  of  arms  and  an  hundred  archers,  for  to  destroy  the  queen 
and  her  knights,  for  he  thought  that  time  was  the  best  season 
to  take  the  queen.  So  as  the  queen  had  mayed  and  all  her 
knights,  all  were  bedashed  with  herbs,  mosses,  and  flowers,  in 
the  best  manner  and  freshest.  Right  so  came  out  of  a  wood  Sir 
Meleagans  with  an  eightscore  men  well  harnessed,  as  they  should 


88  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

fight  in  a  battle  of  arrest,  and  bade  the  queen  and  her  knights 
abide,  for  maugre  their  heads  they  should  abide.  "  Traitor 
knight,"  said  Queen  Guenever,  "  what  castest  thou  for  to  do  ? 
Wilt  thou  shame  thyself  ?  Bethink  thee  how  thou  art  a  king's 
son,  and  knight  of  the  Table  Round,  and  thou  to  be  about  to 
dishonor  the  noble  king  that  made  thee  knight ;  thou  shamest 
all  knighthood  and  thyself,  and  me.  I  let  thee  wit,  me  shalt 
thou  never  shame,  for  I  had  lever  cut  my  throat  in  twain  than 
thou  shouldst  dishonor  me."  "As  for  all  this  language,"  said 
Sir  Meleagans,  "  be  it  as  it  may,  for  wit  you  well,  madam,  I 
have  loved  you  many  a  year,  and  never  or  now  could  I  get  you 
at  such  an  advantage  as  I  do  now,  and  therefore  I  will  take 
you  as  I  find  you."  Then  spake  all  the  ten  noble  knights  at 
once,  and  said :  "  Sir  Meleagans,  wit  thou  well  ye  are  about 
to  jeopard  your  worship  to  dishonor,  and  also  ye  cast  to  jeopard 
our  persons  ;  howbeit  we  be  unarmed,  ye  have  us  at  great  avail, 
for  it  seemeth  by  you  that  ye  have  laid  watch  upon  us ;  but 
rather  than  ye  should  put  the  queen  to  shame,  and  us  all,  we 
had  as  lief  to  depart  from  our  lives,  for  if  we  other  ways  did 
we  should  be  shamed  forever."  Then  Sir  Meleagans  said, 
"  Dress  you  as  well  as  you  can,  and  keep  the  queen."  Then  all 
the  ten  knights  of  the  Table  Round  drew  their  swords,  and 
the  other  let  run  at  them  with  their  spears,  and  the  ten  knights 
manly  abode  them,  and  smote  away  their  spears,  that  no  spear 
did  them  none  harm.  Then  they  lashed  together  with  swords, 
and  anon  Sir  Kay,  Sir  Sagramour,  Sir  Agravaine,  Sir  Dody- 
nas,  Sir  Ladynas,  and  Sir  Ozanna  were  smitten  to  the  earth 
with  grimly  wounds.  Then  Sir  Brandiles,  and  Sir  Persant, 
Sir  Ironside,  and  Sir  Pelleas  fought  long,  and  they  were  sorely 
wounded  ;  for  these  ten  knights  or  ever  they  were  laid  to  the 
ground  slew  forty  men  of  the  boldest  and  best  of  them.  So 
when  the  queen  saw  her  knights  thus  dolefully  wounded,  and 
needs  must  be  slain  at  the  last,  then  for  pity  and  sorrow  she 
cried,  "  Sir  Meleagans,  slay  not  my  noble  knights,  and  I  will 
go  with  thee  upon  this  covenant,  that  thou  save  them,  and  suf 
fer  them  not  to  be  no  more  hurt,  with  this,  that  they  be  led  with 
me  wheresoever  thou  leadest  me  ;  for  I  will  rather  slay  myself 
than  I  will  go  with  thee,  unless  that  these  my  noble  knights 


THE    STORY    OF    LAUNCELOT.  89 

may  be  in  my  presence."  "Madam,"  said  Meleagans,  "for 
your  sake  they  shall  be  led  with  you  into  mine  own  castle,  with 
that  ye  will  be  ruled  and  ride  with  me."  Then  the  queen 
prayed  the  four  knights  to  leave  their  fighting,  and  she  and 
they  would  not  part.  "  Madam,"  said  Sir  Pelleas,  "  we  will 
do  as  ye  do,  for  as  for  me  I  take  no  force  of  my  life  nor  death." 
For  Sir  Pelleas  gave  such  buffets  that  none  armor  might  hold 
him. 

Then  by  the  queen's  commandment  they  left  battle,  and 
dressed  the  wounded  knights  on  horseback,  some  sitting,  some 
overthwart  their  horses,  that  it  was  pity  to  behold  them.  And 
then  Sir  Meleagans  charged  the  queen  and  all  her  knights  that 
none  of  all  her  fellowship  should  depart  from  her ;  for  full  sore 
he  dreaded  Sir  Launcelot  du  Lac,  lest  he  should  have  any 
knowledging.  All  this  espied  the  queen,  and  privily  she  called 
unto  her  a  child  of  her  chamber,  that  was  swiftly  horsed,  to 
whom  she  said,  "  Go  thou,  when  thou  seest  thy  time,  and  bear 
this  ring  to  Sir  Launcelot  du  Lac,  and  pray  him,  as  he  loveth 
me,  that  he  will  see  me,  and  rescue  me  if  ever  he  will  have  joy 
of  me ;  and  spare  thou  not  thy  horse,"  said  the  queen,  "  neither 
for  water  nor  for  land."  So  the  child  espied  his  time,  and 
lightly  he  took  his  horse  with  the  spurs,  and  departed  as  fast 
as  he  might.  And  when  Sir  Meleagans  saw  him  so  flee  he  un 
derstood  that  it  was  by  the  queen's  commandment  for  to  warn 
Sir  Launcelot.  Then  they  that  were  best  horsed  chased  him, 
and  shot  at  him,  but  from  them  all  the  child  went  suddenly ; 
and  then  Sir  Meleagans  said  unto  the  queen,  "Madam,  ye  are 
about  to  betray  me,  but  I  shall  ordain  for  Sir  Launcelot 
that  he  shall  not  come  lightly  to  you."  And  then  he  rode 
with  her  and  them  all  to  his  castle  in  all  the  haste  that  he 
might.  And  by  the  way  Sir  Meleagans  laid  in  an  ambushment 
the  best  archers  that  he  might  get  in  his  country,  to  the  num 
ber  of  thirty,  to  await  upon  Sir  Launcelot,  charging  them  that 
if  they  saw  such  a  manner  of  knight  come  by  the  way  upon  a 
white  horse,  that  in  any  wise  they  slay  his  horse,  but  in  no 
manner  of  wise  have  not  ado  with  him  bodily,  for  he  was  over- 
hard  to  be  overcome.  So  this  was  done,  and  they  were  come 
to  his  castle,  but  in  no  wise  the  queen  would  never  let  none  of 


90  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

the  ten  knights  and  her  ladies  out  of  her  sight,  but  always  they 
were  in  her  presence.  So  when  the  child  was  departed  from 
the  fellowship  of  Sir  Meleagans,  within  awhile  he  came  to 
Westminster.  And  anon  he  found  Sir  Launcelot.  And  when 
he  had  told  him  his  message,  and  delivered  him  the  queen's 
ring,  "Alas  !  "  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "now  am  I  shamed  forever, 
unless  that  I  may  rescue  that  noble  lady  from  dishonor."  Then 
eagerly  he  asked  his  armor,  and  ever  the  child  told  Sir  Launce- 
Jot  how  the  ten  knights  fought  marvellously,  and  how  Sir  Pel- 
leas,  and  Sir  Ironside,  and  Sir  Brandiles,  and  Sir  Persant  of 
Inde  fought  strongly,  but  as  for  Sir  Pelleas  there  might  none 
withstand  him,  and  how  they  all  fought  till  at  last  they  were 
laid  to  the  earth,  and  then  the  queen  made  appointment  for  to 
save  their  lives,  and  go  with  Sir  Meleagans.  "  Alas  !  "  said 
Sir  Launcelot,  "that  most  noble  lady  that  she  should  be  so  de 
stroyed  !  I  had  lever,"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "  than  all  France 
that  I  had  been  there  well  armed."  So  when  Launcelot  was 
armed  and  upon  his  horse,  he  prayed  the  child  of  the  queen's 
chamber  to  warn  Sir  Lavaine  how  suddenly  he  was  departed, 
and  for  what  cause, — "and  pray  him,  as  he  loveth  me,  that 
he  will  hie  him  after  me,  and  that  lie  stint  not  until  he  come 
to  the  castle  where  Sir  Meleagans  abide th  or  dwelleth,  for 
there,"  said  Launcelot,  "  shall  he  hear  of  me  if  I  am  a  man 
living,  and  rescue  the  queen  and  her  ten  knights,  the  which  he 
traitorously  hath  taken,  and  that  shall  I  prove  upon  his  head, 
and  all  them  that  hold  with  him." 

Then  Sir  Launcelot  rode  as  fast  as  he  might,  and  he  took  the 
water  at  Westminster,  and  made  his  horse  to  swim  over  Thames 
at  Lambeth.  And  then  within  a  while  he  came  to  the  place 
where  the  ten  knights  had  fought  with  Sir  Meleagans,  and  then 
Sir  Launcelot  followed  that  track  until  he  came  to  a  wood,  and 
there  was  a  straight  way,  and  there  the  thirty  archers  bade  Sir 
Launcelot  turn  again,  and  follow  no  longer  that  track.  "  What 
commandment  have  ye  thereto,"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "  to  cause 
me,  that  am  a  knight  of  the  Round  Table,  to  leave  my  right 
way  ?  "  "  This  way  shalt  thou  leave,  or  else  thou  shalt  go  it 
on  thy  foot,  for  wit  thou  well  thy  horse  shall  be  slain."  "That 
is  little  mastery,"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "to  slay  my  horse,  but  as 


r  M 

'/       •        l.fc^.llsV-K« 


THE    STORY    OF    LAUNCELOT.  91 

for  myself,  when  ray  horse  is  slain,  I  give  right  nought  for  you, 
not  if  ye  were  five  hundred  more."  So  then  they  shot  Sir  Launce- 
lot's  horse,  and  smote  him  with  many  arrows.  And  then  Sir 
Launcelot  avoided  his  horse  and  went  on  foot ;  but  there  were 
so  many  ditches  and  hedges  betwixt  them  and  him  that  he 
might  meddle  with  none  of  them.  "  Alas,  for  shame,"  said 
Sir  Launcelot,  "that  ever  one  knight  should  betray  another 
knight,  but  it  is  an  old  saw,  '  A  good  man  is  never  in  danger 
but  when  he  is  in  danger  of  a  coward.'"  Then  Sir  Launcelot 
went  a  while,  and  then  he  was  foul  cumbered  of  his  armor, 
his  shield,  and  his  spear,  arid  all  that  belonged  to  him.  Wit 
ye  well  he  was  sore  annoyed,  and  full  loth  he  was  to  leave  any 
thing  that  belonged  to  him,  for  he  dreaded  sore  the  treason  of 
Sir  Meleagans.  And  then  by  fortune  there  came  by  a  cart  that 
came  thither  for  to  fetch  wood. 

Now  at  this  time  carts  were  but  little  used  save  for  carrying 
offal  or  such  like,  and  for  conveying  criminals  to  execution.  But 
Sir  Launcelot  took  no  thought  save  of  rescuing  the  queen. 
"  Say  me,  carter,"  said  he,  "  what  shall  I  give  thee  for  to  suffer 
me  to  leap  into  thy  cart,  and  that  thou  shalt  bring  me  unto  a 
castle  within  this  two  mile  ?  "  "  Thou  shalt  not  come  within  my 
cart,"  said  the  carter,  "  for  I  am  sent  for  to  fetch  wood  for  my 
lord  Sir  Meleagans."  "  With  him  would  I  speak."  "  Thou 
shalt  not  go  with  me,"  said  the  carter.  Then  Sir  Launcelot 
lept  to  him,  and  gave  him  such  a  buffet  that  he  fell  to  the  earth 
stark  dead.  Then  the  other  carter,  his  fellow,  thought  to  have 
gone  the  same  way,  and  then  he  cried,  "  Fair  lord,  save  my 
life,  and  I  shall  bring  you  where  you  will." 

So  then  Sir  Launcelot  placed  himself  in  the  cart,  and  only 
lamented  that  with  much  jolting  he  made  but  little  progress. 
Then  it  happened  Sir  Gawain  passed  by,  and  seeing  an  armed 
knight  travelling  in  that  unusual  way,  he  drew  near  to  see  who 
it  might  be.  Then  Sir  Launcelot  told  him  how  the  queen  had 
been  carried  off,  and  how,  in  hastening  to  her  rescue,  his  horse 
had  been  disabled,  and  he  had  been  compelled  to  avail  himself 
of  the  cart  rather  than  give  up  his  enterprise.  Then  Sir  Ga 
wain  said,  u  Surely  it  is  unworthy  of  a  knight  to  travel  in  such 
sort;"  but  Sir  Launcelot  heeded  him  not. 


92  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

At  nightfall  they  arrived  at  a  castle,  and  the  lady  thereof 
came  out  at  the  head  of  her  damsels  to  welcome  Sir  Gawain. 
But  to  admit  his  companion,  whom  she  supposed  to  be  a  crim 
inal,  or  at  least  a  prisoner,  it  pleased  her  not;  however,  to 
oblige  Sir  Gawain,  she  consented.  At  supper  Sir  Launcelot 
came  near  being  consigned  to  the  kitchen,  and  was  only  ad 
mitted  to  the  lady's  table  at  the  earnest  solicitation  of  Sir  Ga 
wain.  Neither  would  the  damsels  prepare  a  bed  for  him.  He 
seized  the  first  he  found  unoccupied,  and  was  left  undisturbed. 

Next  morning  he  saw  from  the  turrets  of  the  castle  a  train 
accompanying  a  lady,  whom  he  imagined  to  be  the  queen.  Sir 
Gawain  thought  it  might  be  so,  and  became  equally  eager  to 
depart.  The  lady  of  the  castle  supplied  Sir  Launcelot  with  a 
horse,  and  they  traversed  the  plain  at  full  speed.  They 
learned  from  some  travellers  whom  they  met  that  there  were 
two  roads  which  led  to  the  castle  of  Sir  Meleagans.  Here 
therefore  the  friends  separated.  Sir  Launcelot  found  his  way 
beset  with  obstacles,  which  he  encountered  successfully,  but 
not  without  much  loss  of  time.  As  evening  approached  he 
was  met  by  a  young  and  sportive  damsel,  who  gayly  proposed 
to  him  a  supper  at  her  castle.  The  knight,  who  was  hungry  and 
weary,  accepted  the  offer,  though  with  no  very  good  grace. 
He  followed  the  lady  to  her  castle,  and  eat  voraciously  of  her 
supper,  but  was  quite  impenetrable  to  all  her  amorous  ad 
vances.  Suddenly  the  scene  changed,  and  he  was  assailed  by 
six  furious  ruffians,  whom  he  dealt  with  so  vigorously  that  most 
of  them  were  speedily  disabled,  when  again  there  was  a  change, 
and  he  found  himself  alone  with  his  fair  hostess,  who  informed 
him  that  she  was  none  other  than  his  guardian  fairy,  who  had 
but  subjected  him  to  tests  of  his  courage  and  fidelity.  The  next 
day  the  fairy  brought  him  on  his  road,  and  before  parting  gave 
him  a  ring,  which  she  told  him  would  by  its  changes  of  color 
disclose  to  him  all  enchantments,  and  enable  him  to  subdue 
them. 

Sir  Launcelot  pursued  his  journey,  being  but  little  troubled 
save  by  the  taunts  of  travellers,  who  all  seemed  to  have  learned 
by  some  means  his  disgraceful  drive  in  the  cart.  One,  more 
insolent  than  the  rest,  had  the  audacity  to  interrupt  him 


THE    STORY    OF    LAUNCELOT.  93 

during  dinner,  and  even  to  risk  a  battle  in  support  of  his 
pleasantry.  Launcelot,  after  an  easy  victory,  only  doomed 
him  to  be  carted  in  his  turn. 

At  night  he  w.as  received  at  another  castle,  with  great  ap 
parent  hospitality,  but  found  himself  in  the  morning  in  a  dun 
geon  and  loaded  with  chains.  Consulting  his  ring,  and  finding 
that  this  was  an  enchantment,  he  burst  his  chains,  seized  his 
armor  in  spite  of  the  visionary  monsters  who  attempted  to  de 
fend  it,  broke  open  the  gates  of  the  tower,  and  continued  his 
journey.  At  length  his  progress  was  checked  by  a  wide  and 
rapid  torrent,  which  could  only  be  passed  on  a  narrow  bridge, 
on  which  a  false  step  would  prove  his  destruction.  Launcelot, 
leading  his  horse  by  the  bridle,  and  making  him  swim  by  his 
side,  passed  over  the  bridge,  and  was  attacked,  as  soon  as  he 
reached  the  bank,  by  a  lion  and  a  leopard,  both  of  which  he 
slew,  and  then,  exhausted  and  bleeding,  seated  himself  on  the 
grass,  and  endeavored  to  bind  up  his  wounds,  when  he  was  ac 
costed  by  Brademagus,  the  father  of  Meleagans,  whose  castle 
was  then  in  sight,  and  at  no  great  distance.  The  king,  no  less 
courteous  than  his  son  was  haughty  and  insolent,  after  compli 
menting  Sir  Launcelot  on  the  valor  and  skill  he  had  displayed 
in  the  perils  of  the  bridge  and  the  wild  beasts,  offered  him  his 
assistance,  and  informed  him  that  the  queen  was  safe  in  his 
castle,  but  could  only  be  rescued  by  encountering  Meleagans. 
Launcelot  demanded  the  battle  for  the  next  day,  and  accord 
ingly  it  took  place,  at  the  foot  of  the  tower,  and  under  the  eyes 
of  the  fair  captive.  Launcelot  was  enfeebled  by  his  wounds, 
and  fought  not  with  his  usual  spirit,  and  the  contest  for  a  time 
was  doubtful ;  till  Guenever  exclaimed,  "Ah,  Launcelot !  my 
knight,  truly  have  I  been  told  that  thou  art  no  longer  worthy 
of  me  !"  These  words  instantly  revived  the  drooping  knight  > 
he  resumed  at  once  his  usual  superiority,  and  soon  laid  at  his 
feet  his  haughty  adversary. 

He  was  on  the  point  of  sacrificing  him  to  his  resentment 
when  Guenever,  moved  by  the  entreaties  of  Brademagus,  or 
dered  him  to  withhold  the  blow,  and  he  obeyed.  The  castle 
and  its  prisoners  were  now  at  his  disposal.  Launcelot  hastened 
to  the  apartment  of  the  queen,  threw  himself  at  her  feet,  and 


1)4  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

was  about  to  kiss  her  hand,  when  she  exclaimed,  "Ah,  Launce- 
lot !  why  do  I  see  thee  again,  yet  feel  thee  to  be  no  longer  wor 
thy  of  me,  after  having  been  disgracefully  drawn  about  the 

country  in  a "     She  had  not  time  to  finish  the  phrase,  for 

her  lover  suddenly  started  from  her,  and  bitterly  lamenting 
that  he  had  incurred  the  displeasure  of  his  sovereign  lady, 
rushed  out  of  the  castle,  threw  his  sword  and  his  shield  to  the 
right  and  left,  ran  furiously  into  the  woods,  and  disappeared. 

It  seems  that  the  story  of  the  abominable  cart,  which  haunted 
Launcelot  at  every  step,  had  reached  the  ears  of  Sir  Kay,  who 
had  told  it  to  the  queen,  as  a  proof  that  her  knight  must  have 
been  dishonored.  But  Guenever  had  full  leisure  to  repent  the 
haste  with  which  she  had  given  credit  to  the  tale.  Three  days 
elapsed,  during  which  Launcelot  wandered  without  knowing 
where  he  wrent,  till  at  last  he  began  to  reflect  that  his  mistress 
had  doubtless  been  deceived  by  misrepresentation,  and  that  it 
was  his  duty  to  set  her  right.  Pie  therefore  returned,  com 
pelled  Meleagans  to  release  his  prisoners,  and,  taking  the  road 
by  which  they  expected  the  arrival  of  Sir  Gawain,  had  the  sat 
isfaction  of  meeting  him  the  next  day ;  after  which  the  whole 
company  proceeded  gayly  towards  Camelot. 


CHAPTER   YIII. 

THE  STORY  OF  L AUNCELOT.  —  THE  LADY  OF  SHALOTT. 

KING  ARTHUR  proclaimed  a  solemn  tournament  to  be 
held  at  Winchester.  The  king,  not  less  impatient  than 
his  knights  for  this  festival,  set  off  some  days  before  to  super 
intend  the  preparations,  leaving  the  queen  with  her  court  at 
Camelot.  Sir  Launcelot,  under  pretence  of  indisposition, 
remained  behind  also.  His  intention  was  to  attend  the 
tournament  in  disguise ;  and  having  communicated  his  pro 
ject  to  Guenever,  he  mounted  his  horse,  set  off  without  any 
attendant,  and,  counterfeiting  the  feebleness  of  age,  took  the 
most  unfrequented  road  to  Winchester,  and  passed  unnoticed 
as  an  old  knight  who  was  going  to  be  a  spectator  of  the  sports. 
Even  Arthur  and  Gawain,  who  happened  to  behold  him  from 
the  windows  of  a  castle  under  which  he  passed,  were  the 
dupes  of  his  disguise.  But  an  accident  betrayed  him.  His 
horse  happened  to  stumble,  and  the  hero,  forgetting  for  a 
moment  his  assumed  character,  recovered  the  animal  with  a 
strength  and  agility  so  peculiar  to  himself,  that  they  instantly 
recognized  the  inimitable  Launcelot.  They  suffered  him, 

95 


96  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

however,  to  proceed  on  his  journey  without  interruption, 
convinced  that  his  extraordinary  feats  of  arms  must  discover 
him  at  the  approaching  festival. 

In  the  evening  Launcelot  was  magnificently  entertained  as  a 
stranger  knight  at  the  neighboring  castle  of  Shalott.  The 
lord  of  this  castle  had  a  daughter  of  exquisite  beauty,  and 
two  sons  lately  received  into  the  order  of  knighthood,  one  of 
whom  was  at  that  time  ill  in  bed,  and  thereby  prevented  from 
attending  the  tournament,  for  which  both  brothers  had  long 
made  preparations.  Launcelot  offered  to  attend  the  other,  if 
he  were  permitted  to  borrow  the  armor  of  the  invalid,  and  the 
lord  of  Shalott,  without  knowing  the  name  of  his  guest,  being 
satisfied  from  his  appearance  that  his  son  could  not  have 
a  better  assistant  in  arms,  most  thankfully  accepted  the  offer. 
In  the  mean  time  the  young  lady,  who  had  been  much  struck 
by  the  first  appearance  of  the  stranger  knight,  continued  to 
survey  him  with  increased  attention,  and  before  the  conclusion 
of  supper,  became  so  deeply  enamored  of  him,  that,  after 
frequent  changes  of  color,  and  other  symptoms  which  Sir 
Launcelot  could  not  possibly  mistake,  she  was  obliged  to  retire 
to  her  chamber,  and  seek  relief  in  tears.  Sir  Launcelot 
hastened  to  convey  to  her,  by  means  of  her  brother,  the 
information  that  his  heart  was  already  disposed  of,  but  that  it 
would  be  his  pride  and  pleasure  to  act  as  her  knight  at  the 
approaching  tournament.  The  lady,  obliged  to  be  satisfied 
with  that  coWtesy,  presented  him  her  scarf  to  be  worn  at  the 
tournament. 

Launcelot  set  off  in  the  morning  with  the  young  knight,  who, 
on  their  approaching  Winchester,  carried  him  to  the  castle  of 
a  lady,  sister  to  the  lord  of  Shalott,  by  whom  they  were 
hospitably  entertained.  The  next  day  they  put  on  their 
armor,  which  was  perfectly  plain,  and  without  any  device, 
as  was  usual  to  youths  during  the  first  year  of  knighthood, 
their  shields  being  only  painted  red,  as  some  color  was  neces 
sary  to  enable  them  to  be  recognized  by  their  attendants. 
Launcelot  wore  on  his  crest  the  scarf  of  the  maid  of  Shalott, 
and,  thus  equipped,  proceeded  to  the  tournament,  where  the 
knights  were  divided  into  two  companies,  the  one  commanded 


THE    STORY    OF   LAUNCELOT.  97 

by  Sir  Galehaut,  the  other  by  King  Arthur.  Having  surveyed 
the  combat  for  a  short  time  from  without  the  lists,  and 
observed  that  Sir  Galehaut's  party  began  to  give  way, 
they  joined  tjie  press  and  attacked  the  royal  knights,  the 
young  man  choosing  such  adversaries  as  were  suited  to  his 
strength,  while  his  companion  selected  the  principal  champions 
of  the  Round  Table,  and  successively  overthrew  Gawain, 
Bohort,  and  Lionel.  The  astonishment  of  the  spectators  was 
extreme,  for  it  was  thought  that  no  one  but  Launcelot  could 
possess  such  invincible  force ;  yet  the  favor  on  his  crest 
seemed  to  preclude  the  possibility  of  his  being  thus  disguised, 
for  Launcelot  had  never  been  known  to  wear  the  badge  of  any 
but  his  sovereign  lady.  At  length  Sir  Hector,  Launcelot' s 
brother,  engaged  him,  and,  after  a  dreadful  combat,  wounded 
him  dangerously  in  the  head,  but  was  himself  completely 
stunned  by  a  blow  on  the  helmet,  and  felled  to  the  ground ; 
after  which  the  conquerer  rode  off  at  full  speed,  attended  by 
his  companion. 

They  returned  to  the  castle  of  Shalott,  where  Launcelot  was 
attended  with  the  greatest  care  by  the  good  earl,  by  his  two 
sons,  and,  above  all,  by  his  fair  daughter,  whose  medical  skill 
probably  much  hastened  the  period  of  his  recovery.  His 
health  was  almost  completely  restored,  when  Sir  Hector,  Sir 
Bohort,  and  Sir  Lionel,  who,  after  the  return  of  the  court  to 
Camelot,  had  undertaken  the  quest  of  their  relation,  discovered 
him  walking  on  the  walls  of  the  castle.  Their  meeting  was 
very  joyful ;  they  passed  three  days  in  the  castle  amidst  con 
stant  festivities,  and  bantered  each  other  on  the  events  of  the 
tournament.  Launcelot,  though  he  began  by  vowing  ven 
geance  against  the  author  of  his  wound,  yet  ended  by  declaring 
that  he  felt  rewarded  for  the  pain  by  the  pride  he  took  in  wit 
nessing  his  brother's  extraordinary  prowess.  He  then  dis 
missed  them  with  a  message  to  the  queen,  promising  to  follow 
immediately,  it  being  necessary  that  he  should  first  take  a 
formal  leave  of  his  kind  hosts,  as  well  as  of  the  fair  maid  of 
Shalott. 

The  young  lady,  after  vainly  attempting  to  detain  him  by 
her  tears  and  solicitations,  saw  him  depart  without  leaving 
her  any  ground  for  hope. 


98  KING    ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

It  was  early  summer  when  the  tournament  took  place ;  but 
some  months  had  passed  since  Launcelot's  departure,  and  win 
ter  was  now  near  at  hand.  The  health  and  strength  of  the 
Lady  of  Shalott  had  gradually  sunk,  and  she  felt  that  she  could 
not  live  apart  from  the  object  of  her  affections.  She  left  the 
castle,  and,  descending  to  the  river's  brink,  placed  herself  in  a 
boat,  which  she  loosed  from  its  moorings,  and  suffered  to  beai 
her  down  the  current  toward  Camelot. 

One  morning,  as  Arthur  and  Sir  Lionel  looked  from  the  win 
dow  of  the  tower,  the  walls  of  which  were  washed  by  a  river, 
they  descried  a  boat  richly  ornamented,  and  covered  with  an 
awning  of  cloth  of  gold,  which  appeared  to  be  floating  down 
the  stream  without  any  ham  an  guidance.  It  struck  the  shore 
while  they  watched  it,  and  they  hastened  down  to  examine  it 
Beneath  the  awning  they  discovered  the  dead  body  of  a  beau 
tiful  woman,  in  whose  features  Sir  Lionel  easily  recognized  the 
lovely  maid  of  Shalott.  Pursuing  their  search,  they  discovered 
a  purse  richly  embroidered  with  gold  and  jewels,  and  within 
the  purse  a  letter,  which  Arthur  opened,  and  found  addressed 
to  himself  and  all  the  knights  of  the  Round  Table,  stating  that 
Launcelot  of  the  Lake,  the  most  accomplished  of  knights  and 
most  beautiful  of  men,  but  at  the  same  time  the  most  cruel  and 
inflexible,  had  by  his  rigor  produced  the  death  of  the  wretched 
maiden,  whose  love  was  no  less  invincible  than  his  cruelty. 

The  king  immediately  gave  orders  for  the  interment  of  the 
lady,  with  all  the  honors  suited  to  her  rank,  at  the  same  time 
explaining  to  the  knights  the  history  of  her  affection  for 
Launcelot,  which  moved  the  compassion  and  regret  of  all. 


Tennyson  has  chosen  the  story  of  the  Lady  of  Shalott  for 
the  subject  of  a  poem  :  — 

"  There  she  weaves  by  night  and  day 
A  magic  web  with  colors  gay. 
She  has  heard  a  whisper  say 
A  curse  is  on  her  if  she  stay 

To  look  down  to  Camelot. 


THE    STORY    OF    LAUNCELOT.  99 

She  knows  not  what  the  curse  may  be, 
And  so  she  weaveth  steadily, 
And  little  other  care  hath  she, 
The  Lady  of  Shalott. 

"  And  movin*  thro'  a  mirrcr  clear 
That  hangs  before  her  all  the  year, 
Shadows  of  the  world  appear. 
There  she  sees  the  highway  near 

Winding  down  to  Camelot : 
There  the  river  eddy  whirls, 
And  there  the  surly  village  churls, 
And  the  red  cloaks  of  market  girls 

Pass  onward  from  Shalott. 

"  Sometimes  a  troop  of  damsels  glad, 
An  abbot  on  an  ambling  pad, 
Sometimes  a  curly  shepherd  lad, 
Or  long-haired  page  in  crimson  clad 

Goes  by  to  towered  Camelot. 
And  sometimes  thro'  the  mirror  blue 
The  knights  come  riding  two  and  two  : 
She  has  no  loyal  knight  and  true, 

The  Lady  of  Shalott. 

"  But  in  her  web  she  still  delights 
To  weave  the  mirror's  magic  sights, 
For  often  thro'  the  silent  nights 
A  funeral,  with  plumes  and  lights 

And  music,  went  to  Camelot : 
Or  when  the  moon  was  overhead, 
Came  two  young  lovers  lately  wed ; 
'  I  am  half  sick  of  shadows,'  said 

The  Lady  of  Shalott." 

The  poem  goes  on  as  the  story :  the  lady  sees  Launcelot,  lie 
rides  away,  and  she  afterward  dies  and  floats  down  the  river 
in  a  boat  to  Camelot.  The  poem  ends  as  follows  :  — 

"  Under  tower  and  balcony, 
By  garden  wall  and  gallery, 
A  gleaming  shape  she  floated  by 
Dead-pale  between  the  houses  high, 

Silent  unto  Camelot. 
Out  upon  the  wharves  they  came, 
Knight  and  burgher,  lord  and  dame, 
And  round  the  prow  they  read  her  name, 

The  Ladv  of  Shalott. 


100  KING   ARTHUR   AND   HIS   KNIGHTS. 

"  Who  is  this  ?  and  what  is  here  ? 
And  in  the  lighted  palace  near 
Died  the  sound  of  royal  cheer; 
And  they  crossed  themselves  for  fear 

All  the  knights  at  Camelot : 
But  Launcelot  mused  a  little  space ; 
He  said  '  She  has  a  lovely  face ; 
God  in  his  mercy  lend  her  grace, 

The  Lady  of  Shalott.'  " 

The  story  of  "Elaine  the  fair,  Elaine  the  lovable,  Elaine, 
the  lily-maid  of  Astolat,"  one  of  the  earliest  of  the  "  Idylls  of 
the  King,"  is  of  course  the  same  tale  as  the  Lady  of  Shalott. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  STORY  OF  LAUNCELOT. —QUEEN  GUENEVER'S  PERIL. 

IT  happened  at  this  time  that  Queen  Guenever  was  thrown 
into  great  peril  of  her  life.  A  certain  squire  who  was  in 
her  immediate  service,  having  some  cause  of  animosity  to  Sir 
Gawain,  determined  to  destroy  him  by  poison  at  a  public 
entertainment.  For  this  purpose  he  concealed  the  poison  in 
an  apple  of  fine  appearance,  which  he  placed  on  the  top  of 
several  others,  and  put  the  dish  before  the  queen,  hoping  that, 
as  Sir  Gawain  was  the  knight  of  greatest  dignity,  she  would 
present  the  apple  to  him.  But  it  happened  that  a  Scottish 
knight  of  high  distinction,  who  arrived  on  that  day,  was  seated 
next  to  the  queen,  and  to  him,  as  a  stranger,  she  presented  the 
apple,  which  he  had  no  sooner  eaten  than  he  was  seized  with 
dreadful  pain,  and  fell  senseless.  The  whole  court  was  of 
course  thrown  into  confusion;  the  knights  rose  from  table, 
darting  looks  of  indignation  at  the  wretched  queen,  whose 
tears  and  protestations  were  unable  to  remove  their  suspicions. 
In  spite  of  all  that  could  be  done  the  knight  died,  and  nothing 

101 


102  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

remained  but  to  order  a  magnificent  funeral  and  monument 
for  him,  which  was  done. 

Some  time  after,  Sir  MadoK,  brother  of  the  murdered  knight, 
arrived  at  Arthur's  court  in  quest  of  him.  While  hunting  in 
the  forest  he  by  chance  came  to  the  spot  where  the  monument 
was  erected,  read  the  inscription,  and  returned  to  court 
determined  on  immediate  and  signal  vengeance.  He  rode 
into  the  hall,  loudly  accused  the  queen  of  treason,  and  insisted 
on  her  being  given  up  to  punishment,  unless  she  should  find, 
by  a  certain  day,  a  knight  hardy  enough  to  risk  his  life  in 
support  of  her  innocence.  Arthur,  powerful  as  he  was,  did 
not  dare  to  deny  the  appeal,  but  was  compelled,  with  a  heavy 
heart,  to  accept  it,  and  Mador  sternly  took  his  departure,  leav 
ing  the  royal  couple  plunged  in  terror  and  anxiety. 

During  all  this  time  Launcelot  was  absent,  and  no  one  knew 
where  he  was.  He  had  fled  in  anger  from  his  fair  mistress, 
upon  being  reproached  by  her  with  his  passion  for  the  Lady  of 
Shalott,  which  she  had  hastily  inferred  from  his  wearing  her 
scarf  at  the  tournament.  He  took  up  his  abode  with  a  hermit 
in  the  forest,  and  resolved  to  think  no  more  of  the  cruel  beauty, 
whose  conduct  he  thought  must  flow  from  a  wish  to  get  rid  of 
him.  Yet  calm  reflection  had  somewhat  cooled  his  indignation, 
and  he  had  begun  to  wish,  though  hardly  able  to  hope,  for  a 
reconciliation,  when  the  news  of  Sir  Mador's  challenge  for 
tunately  reached  his  ears.  The  intelligence  revived  his  spirits, 
and  he  began  to  prepare  with  the  utmost  cheerfulness  for  a 
contest  which,  if  successful,  would  insure  him  at  once  the 
affection  of  his  mistress  and  the  gratitude  of  his  sovereign. 

The  sad  fate  of  the  Lady  of  Shalott  had  ere  this  completely 
acquitted  Launcelot  in  the  queen's  mind  of  all  suspicion  of  his 
fidelity,  and  she  lamented  most  grievously  her  foolish  quarrel 
with  him,  which  now,  at  her  time  of  need,  deprived  her  of  her 
most  efficient  champion. 

As  the  day  appointed  by  Sir  Mador  was  fast  approaching,  it 
became  necessary  that  she  should  procure  a  champion  for  her 
defence;  and  she  successively  adjured  Sir  Hector,  Sir  Lionel, 
Sir  Bohort,  and  Sir  Gawain  to  undertake  the  battle.  She  fell 
on  her  knees  before  them,  called  Heaven  to  witness  her 


THE    STORY    OF    LAUNCELOT.  103 

innocence  of  the  crime  alleged  against  her,  but  was  sternly 
answered  by  all  that  they  could  not  fight  to  maintain  the 
innocence  of  one  whose  act,  and  the  fatal  consequences  of  it, 
they  had  seen  with  their  own  eyes.  She  retired,  therefore, 
dejected  and  disconsolate  ;*but  the  sight  of  the  fatal  pile  on 
which,  if  guilty,  she  was  doomed  to  be  burned,  exciting  her  to 
fresh  effort,  she  again  repaired  to  Sir  Bohort,  threw  herself  at 
his  feet,  and,  piteously  calling  on  him  for  mercy,  fell  into  a 
swoon.  The  brave  knight  was  not  proof  against  this.  He 
raised  her  up,  and  hastily  promised  that  he  would  undertake 
her  cause,  if  no  other  or  better  champion  should  present  him 
self.  He  then  summoned  his  friends,  and  told  them  his 
resolution ;  and  as  a  mortal  combat  with  Sir  Mador  was  a 
most  fearful  enterprise,  they  agreed  to  accompany  him  in  the 
morning  to  the  hermitage  in  the  forest,  where  he  proposed  to 
receive  absolution  from  the  hermit,  and  to  make  his  peace  with 
Heaven,  before  he  entered  the  lists.  As  they  approached  the 
hermitage,  they  espied  a  knight  riding  in  the  forest,  whom 
they  at  once  recognized  as  Sir  Launcelot.  Overjoyed  at  the 
meeting,  they  quickly,  in  answer  to  his  questions,  confirmed 
the  news  of  the  queen's  imminent  danger,  and  received  his 
instructions  to  return  to  court,  to  comfort  her  as  well  as  they 
could,  but  to  say  nothing  of  his  intention  of  undertaking  her 
defence,  which  he  meant  to  do  in  the  character  of  an  unknown 
adventurer. 

On  their  return  to  tho  castle  they  found  that  mass  was 
finished,  and  had  scarcely  time  to  speak  to  the  queen  before 
they  were  summoned  into  the  hall  to  dinner.  A  general 
gloom  was  spread  over  the  countenances  of  all  the  guests. 
Arthur  himself  was  unable  to  conceal  his  dejection,  and  the 
wretched  Guenever,  motionless  and  bathed  in  tears,  sat  in 
trembling  expectation  of  Sir  Mador's  appearance.  Nor  was  it 
long  ere  he  stalked  into  the  hall,  and  with  a  voice  of  thunder, 
rendered  more  impressive  by  the  general  silence,  demanded 
instant  justice  on  the  guilty  party.  Arthur  replied  with 
dignity,  that  little  of  the  day  was  yet  spent,  and  that  perhaps  a 
champion  might  yet  be  found  capable  of  satisfying  his  thirst 
for  battle.  Sir  Bohort  now  rose  from  table,  and,  shortly 


104  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

returning  in  complete  armor,  resumed  his  place,  after  receiving 
the  embraces  and  thanks  of  the  king,  who  now  began  to  resume 
some  degree  of  confidence.  Sir  Mador,  growing  impatient, 
again  repeated  his  denunciations  of  vengeance,  and  insisted 
that  the  combat  should  no  longer  be  postponed. 

In  the  height  of  the  debate  there  came  riding  into  the  hall  a 
knight  mounted  on  a  black  steed,  and  clad  in  black  armor, 
with  his  visor  down,  and  lance  in  hand.  "  Sir,"  said  the  king, 
"is  it  your  will  to  alight  and  partake  of  our  cheer?"  "Nay, 
sir,"  he  replied  ;  "  I  come  to  save  a  lady's  life.  The  queen 
hath  ill  bestowed  her  favors,  and  honored  many  a  knight,  that 
in  her  hour  of  need  she  should  have  none  to  take  her  part. 
Thou  that  darest  accuse  her  of  treachery  stand  forth,  for 
to-day  shalt  thou  need  all  thy  might." 

Sir  Mador,  though  surprised,  was  not  appalled  by  the  stern 
challenge  and  formidable  appearance  of  his  antagonist,  but 
prepared  for  the  encounter.  At  the  first  shock  both  were 
unhorsed.  They  then  drew  their  swords,  and  commenced  a 
combat  which  lasted  from  noon  till  evening,  when  Sir  Mador, 
whose  strength  began  to  fail,  was  felled  to  the  ground  by 
Launcelot,  and  compelled  to  sue  for  mercy.  The  victor, 
whose  arm  was  already  raised  to  terminate  the  life  of  his 
opponent,  instantly  dropped  his  sword,  courteously  lifted  up 
the  fainting  Sir  Mador,  frankly  confessing  that  he  had  never 
before  encountered  so  formidable  an  enemy.  The  other,  with 
similar  courtesy,  solemnly  renounced  all  further  projects  of 
vengeance  for  his  brother's  death  ;  and  the  two  knights  now 
become  fast  friends,  embraced  each  other  with  the  greatest 
cordiality.  In  the  mean  time  Arthur,  having  recognized  Sir 
Launcelot,  whose  helmet  was  now  unlaced,  rushed  down  into 
the  lists,  followed  by  all  his  knights,  to  welcome  and  thank 
his  deliverer.  Guenever  swooned  with  joy,  and  the  place  of 
combat  suddenly  exhibited  a  scene  of  the  most  tumultuous 
delight. 

The  general  satisfaction  was  still  further  increased  by  the 
discovery  of  the  real  culprit.  Having  accidentally  incurred 
some  suspicion,  he  confessed  his  crime,  and  was  publicly 
punished  in  the  presence  of  Sir  Mador. 


THE    STORY    OF    LAUXCELOT.  105 

The  court  now  returned  to  the  castle,  which,  with  the  title 
of  "  La  Joyeuse  Garde  "  bestowed  upon  it  in  memory  of  the 
happy  event,  was  conferred  on  Sir  Launcelot  by  Arthur,  as  a 
memorial  of  his  gratitude. 

So  far  of  the  Story  of  Sif  Launcelot.  Let  us  turn  now  to 
the  Story  of  Sir  Tristram  of  Lyonesse. 


CHAPTER  X. 


THE  STORY  OF  TRISTRAM   OF  LYONESSE. 

MELIADUS  was  king  of  Leonois,  or  Lyonesse,  a  country 
famous  in  the  annals  of  romance,  which  adjoined  the 
kingdom  of  Cornwall,  but  has  now  disappeared  from  the  map, 
having  been,  it  is  said,  overwhelmed  by  the  ocean.  Meliadus 
was  married  to  Isabella,  sister  of  Mark,  king  of  Cornwall.  A 
fairy  fell  in  love  with  him,  and  drew  him  away  by  enchant 
ment  while  he  was  engaged  in  hunting.  His  queen  set  out  in 
quest  of  him,  but  was  taken  ill  on  her  journey,  and  died,  leav 
ing  an  infant  son,  whom,  from  the  melancholy  circumstances 
of  his  birth,  she  called  Tristram. 

Gouvernail,  the  queen's  squire,  who  had  accompanied  her, 
took  charge  of  the  child,  and  restored  him  to  his  father,  who 
had  at  length  burst  the  enchantments  of  the  fairy,  and  returned 
home. 

Meliadus,  after  seven  years,  married  agaip,  and  the  new 
queen,  being  jealous  of  the  influence  of  Tristram  with  his 
father,  laid  plots  for  his  life,  which  were  discovered  by  Gouver- 
106 


THE    STORY    OF    TRISTRAM    OF    LYONESSE.  107 

nail,  who,  in  consequence,  fled  with  the  boy  to  the  court  of  the 
king  of  France,  where  Tristram  was  kindly  received,  and  grew 
up  improving  in  every  gallant  and  knightly  accomplishment, 
adding  to  his  skill  in  arms  the  arts  of  music  and  of  chess.  In 
particular,  he  devoted  himself  to  the  chase  and  to  all  woodland 
sports,  so  that  he  became  distinguished  above  all  other  cheva 
liers  of  the  court  for  his  knowledge  of  all  that  relates  to  hunt 
ing.  No  wonder  that  Belinda,  the  king's  daughter,  fell  in 
love  with  him  ;  but  as  he  did  not  return  her  passion,  she,  in  a 
sudden  impulse  of  anger,  excited  her  father  against  him,  and 
he  was  banished  the  kingdom.  The  princess  soon  repented  of 
her  act,  and  in  despair  destroyed  herself,  having  first  written  a 
most  tender  letter  to  Tristram,  sending  him  at  the  same  time  a 
beautiful  and  sagacious  dog,  of  which  she  was  very  fond,  de 
siring  him  to  keep  it  as  a  memorial  of  her.  Meliadus  was  now 
dead,  and  as  his  queen,  Tristram's  stepmother,  held  the  throne, 
Gouvernail  was  afraid  to  carry  his  pupil  to  his  native  country, 
and  took  him  to  Cornwall,  to  his  uncle  Mark,  who  gave  him  a 
kind  reception. 

King  Mark  resided  at  the  castle  of  Tintadel,  already  men 
tioned  in  the  history  of  Uther  and  Iguerne.  In  this  court 
Tristram  became  distinguished  in  all  the  exercises  incumbent 
on  a  knight ;  nor  was  it  long  before  he  had  an  opportunity  of 
practically  employing  his  valor  and  skill.  Moraunt,  a  cele 
brated  champion,  brother  to  the  queen  of  Ireland,  arrived  at 
the  court,  to  demand  tribute  of  King  Mark.  The  knights  of 
Cornwall  are  in  ill  repute,  in  romance,  for  their  cowardice,  and 
they  exhibited  it  on  this  occasion.  King  Mark  could  find  no 
champion  who  dared  to  encounter  the  Irish  knight,  till  his 
nephew  Tristram,  who  had  not  yet  received  the  honors  of 
knighthood,  craved  to  be  admitted  to  the  order,  offering  at  the 
same  time  to  fight  the  battle  of  Cornwall  against  the  Irish 
champion.  King  Mark  assented  with  reluctance ;  Tristram 
received  the  accolade,  which  conferred  knighthood  upon  him  ; 
and  the  place  and  time  were  assigned  for  the  encounter. 

Without  attempting  to  give  the  details  of  this  famous  com 
bat,  the  first  and  one  of  the  most  glorious  of  Tristram's  ex 
ploits,  we  shall  only  say  that  the  young  knight,  though  severely 


108  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

wounded,  cleft  the  head  of  Moraunt,  leaving  a  portion  of  his 
sword  in  the  wound.  Moraunt,  half  dead  with  his  wround  and 
the  disgrace  of  his  defeat,  hastened  to  hide  himself  in  his  ship, 
sailed  away  with  all  speed  for  Ireland,  and  died  soon  after 
arriving  in  his  own  country. 

The  kingdom  of  Cornwall  was  thus  delivered  from  its  trib 
ute.  Tristram,  weakened  by  loss  of  blood,  fell  senseless. 
His  friends  flew  to  his  assistance.  They  dressed  his  wounds, 
which  in  general  healed  readily  ;  but  the  lance  of  Moraunt  was 
poisoned,  and  one  wound  which  it  made  yielded  to  no  reme 
dies,  but  grew  worse  day  by  day.  The  surgeons  could  do  no 
more.  Tristram  asked  permission  of  his  uncle  to  depart,  and 
seek  for  aid  in  the  kingdom  of  Loegria  (England).  With  his 
consent  he  embarked,  and,  after  tossing  for  many  days  on  the 
sea,  was  driven  by  the  winds  to  the  coast  of  Ireland.  He 
landed,  full  of  joy  and  gratitude  that  he  had  escaped  the  peril 
of  the  sea ;  took  his  rote,*  and  began  to  play.  It  was  a  sum 
mer  evening,  and  the  king  of  Ireland  and  his  daughter,  the 
beautiful  Isoude,  were  at  a  window  which  overlooked  the  sea. 
The  strange  harper  was  sent  for,  and  conveyed  to  the  palace, 
where,  finding  that  he  was  in  Ireland,  whose  champion  he  had 
lately  slain,  he  concealed  his  name,  and  called  himself  Tram- 
tris.  The  queen  undertook  his  cure,  and  by  a  medicated  bath 
gradually  restored  him  to  health.  His  skill  in  music  and  in 
games  occasioned  his  being  frequently  called  to  court,  and  he 
became  the  instructor  of  the  Princess  Isoude  in  minstrelsy  and 
poetry,  who  profited  so  well  under  his  care,  that  she  soon  had 
no  equal  in  the  kingdom,  except  her  instructor. 

At  this  time  a  tournament  was  held,  at  which  many  knights 
of  the  Round  Table,  and  others,  were  present.  On  the  first 
day  a  Saracen  prince,  named  Palamedes,  obtained  the  advan 
tage  over  all.  They  brought  him  to  the  court,  and  gave  him  a 
feast,  at  which  Tristram,  just  recovering  from  his  wound,  was 
present.  The  fair  Isoude  appeared  on  this  occasion  in  all  her 
charms.  Palamedes  could  not  behold  them  without  emotion, 
and  made  no  effort  to  conceal  his  love.  Tristram  perceived  it, 

*  A  musical  instrument. 


THE    STORY    OF    TRISTRAM    OF   LYONESSE.  109 

and  the  pain  he  felt  from  jealousy  taught  him  how  dear  the 
fair  Isoude  had  already  become  to  him. 

Next  day  the  tournament  was  renewed.  Tristram,  still 
feeble  from  his  wound,  rose  during  the  night,  took  his  arms, 
and  concealed  them  in  a  forest  near  the  place  of  the  contest, 
and,  after  it  had  begun,  mingled  with  the  combatants.  He 
overthrew  all  that  encountered  him,  in  particular  Palamedes, 
whom  he  brought  to  the  ground  with  a  stroke  of  his  lance,  and 
then  fought  him  hand  to  hand,  bearing  off  the  prize  of  the 
tourney.  But  his  exertions  caused  his  wound  to  reopen  ;  he 
bled  fast,  and  in  this  sad  state,  yet  in  triumph,  they  bore  him 
to  the  palace.  The  fair  Isoude  devoted  herself  to  his  relief 
with  an  interest  which  grew  more  vivid  day  by  day ;  and  her 
skilful  care  soon  restored  him  to  health. 

It  happened  one  day  that  a  damsel  of  the  court,  entering  the 
closet  where  Tristram's  arms  were  deposited,  perceived  that  a 
part  of  the  sword  had  been  broken  off.  It  occurred  to  her  that 
the  missing  portion  was  like  that  which  was  left  in  the  skull  of 
Moraunt,  the  Irish  champion.  She  imparted  her  thought  to 
the  queen,  who  compared  the  fragment  taken  from  her  brother's 
wound  with  the  sword  of  Tristram,  and  was  satisfied  that  it 
was  part  of  the  same,  and  that  the  weapon  of  Tristram  was 
that  which  reft  her  brother's  life.  She  laid  her  griefs  and  re 
sentment  before  the  king,  who  satisfied  himself  with  his  own 
eyes  of  the  truth  of  her  suspicions.  Tristram  was  cited  before 
the  whole  court,  and  reproached  with  having  dared  to  present 
himself  before  them  after  having  slain  their  kinsman.  He  ac 
knowledged  that  he  had  fought  with  Moraunt  to  settle  the 
claim  for  tribute,  and  said  that  it  was  by  force  of  winds  and 
waves  alone  that  he  was  thrown  on  their  coast.  The  queen 
demanded  vengeance  for  the  death  of  her  brother;  the  fair 
Isoude  trembled  and  grew  pale,  but  a  murmur  rose  from  all  the 
assembly  that  the  life  of  one  so  handsome  and  so  brave  should 
not  be  taken  for  such  a  cause,  and  generosity  finally  triumphed 
over  resentment  in  the  mind  of  the  king.  Tristram  was  dis 
missed  in  safety,  but  commanded  to  leave  the  kingdom  without 
delay,  and  never  to  return  thither  under  pain  of  death.  Tris 
tram  went  back,  with  restored  health,  to  Cornwall. 


110  KIXG    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

King  Mark  made  his  nephew  give  him  a  minute  recital  of 
his  adventures.  Tristram  told  him  all  minutely;  but  when  he 
came  to  speak  of  the  fair  Isoude,  he  described  her  charms  with 
a  warmth  and  energy  such  as  none  but  a  lover  could  display. 
King  Mark  was  fascinated  with  the  description,  and,  choosing 
a  favorable  time,  demanded  a  boon  *  of  his  nephew,  who  readily 
granted  it.  The  king  made  him  swear  upon  the  holy  reliques 
that  he  would  fulfil  his  commands.  Then  Mark  directed  him 
to  go  to  Ireland,  and  obtain  for  him  the  fair  Isoude  to  be  queen 
of  Cornwall. 

Tristram  believed  it  was  certain  death  for  him  to  return  to 
Ireland  ;  and  how  could  he  act  as  ambassador  for  his  uncle  in 
such  a  cause.  Yet,  bound  by  his  oath,  he  hesitated  not  for  an 
instant.  He  only  took  the  precaution  to  change  his  armor. 
He  embarked  for  Ireland ;  but  a  tempest  drove  him  to  the 
const  of  England,  near  Camelot,  where  King  Arthur  was  hold 
ing  his  court,  attended  by  the  knights  of  the  Round  Table,  and 
many  others,  the  most  illustrious  in  the  world. 

Tristram  kept  himself  unknown.  He  took  part  in  many 
jousts;  he  fought, many  combats,  in  which  he  covered  him 
self  with  glory.  One  day  he  saw  among  those  recently  arrived 
the  king  of  Ireland,  father  of  the  fair  Isoude.  This  prince, 
accused  of  treason  against  his  liege  sovereign,  Arthur,  came  to 
Camelot  to  free  himself  of  the  charge.  Blaanor,  one  of  the 
most  redoubtable  warriors  of  the  Round  Table,  was  his  accu 
ser,  and  Argius,  the  king,  had  neither  youthful  vigor  nor 
strength  to  encounter  him.  He  must  therefore  seek  a  cham 
pion  to  sustain  his  innocence.  But  the  knights  of  the  Round 
Table  were  not  at  liberty  to  fight  against  one  another,  unless 
in  a  quarrel  of  their  own.  Argius  heard  of  the  great  renown  of 
the  unknown  knight;  he  also  was  witness  of  his  exploits.  He 

*  "  Good  faith  was  the  very  corner-stone  of  chivalry.  Whenever  a  knight's 
word  was  pledged  (it  mattered  not  how  rashly),  it  was  to  be  redeemed  at  any 
price.  Hence  the  sacred  obligation  of  the  boon  granted  by  a  knight  to  his  sup 
pliant.  Instances  without  number  occur  in  romance,  in  which  a  knight,  by  rashly 
granting  an  indefinite  boon,  was  obliged  to  door  suffer  something  extremely  to  his 
prejudice.  But  it  is  not  in  romance  alone  that  we  find  such  singular  instances  of 
adherence  to  an  indefinite  promise.  The  history  of  the  times  presents  authentic 
transactions  equally  embarrassing  and  absurd." —  SCOTT,  note  of  Sir  Tristram, 


THE    STOKY    OF    TRISTRAM    OF    LYONESSE.  Ill 

sought  him,  and  conjured  him  to  adopt  his  defence,  and  on  his 
oath  declared  that  he  was  innocent  of  the  crime  of  which 
he  was  accused.  Tristram  readily  consented,  and  made  him 
self  known  to  the  king,  who  on  his  part  promised  to  reward 
his  exertions,  if  successful^with  whatever  gift  he  might  ask. 

Tristram  fought  with  Blaanor,  and  overthrew  him,  and  held 
his  life  in  his  power.  The  fallen  warrior  called  on  him  to  use 
his  right  of  conquest,  and  strike  the  fatal  blow.  "  God  for 
bid,"  said  Tristram,  "  that  I  should  take  the  life  of  so  brave  a 
knight !  "  He  raised  him  up  and  restored  him  to  his  friends. 
The  judges  of  the  field  decided  that  the  king  of  Ireland  was 
acquitted  of  the  charge  against  him,  and  they  led  Tristram  in 
triumph  to  his  tent.  King  Argius,  full  of  gratitude,  conjured 
Tristram  to  accompany  him  to  his  kingdom.  They  departed 
•together,  and  arrived  in  Ireland  ;  and  the  queen,  forgetting  her 
resentment  for  her  brother's  death,  exhibited  to  the  preserver 
of  her  husband's  life  nothing  but  gratitude  and  good-will. 

How  happy  a  moment  for  Isoude,  who  knew  that  her  father 
had  promised  his  deliverer  whatever  boon  he  might  ask.  But  the 
unhappy  Tristram  gazed  on  her  with  despair,  at  the  thought 
of  the  cruel  oath  which  bound  him.  His  magnanimous  soul 
subdued  the  force  of  his  love.  He  revealed  the  oath  which 
he  had  taken,  and  with  trembling  voice  demanded  the  fair 
Isoude  for  his  uncle. 

Argius  consented,  and  soon  all  was  prepared  for  the  depart 
ure  of  Isoude.  Brengwain,  her  favorite  maid-of-honor,  was  to 
accompany  her.  On  the  day  of  departure  the  queen  took  aside 
this  devoted  attendant,  and  told  her  that  she  had  observed 
that  her  daughter  and  Tristram  were  attached  to  one  another, 
and  that  to  avert  the  bad  effects  of  this  inclination  she  had 
procured  from  a  powerful  fairy  a  potent  philter  (love-draught), 
which  she  directed  Brengwain  to  administer  to  Isoude  and  to 
King  Mark  on  the  evening  of  their  marriage. 

Isoude  and  Tristram  embarked  together.  A  favorable  wind 
filled  the  sails  and  promised  them  a  fortunate  voyage.  The 
lovers  gazed  upon  one  another,  and  could  not  repress  their 
sighs.  Love  seemed  to  light  up  all  his  fires  on  their  lips,  as 
in  their  hearts.  The  day  was  warm ;  they  suffered  from  thirst. 


112  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

Isoude  first  complained.  Tristram  descried  the  bottle  contain 
ing  the  love-draught,  which  Brengwain  had  been  so  imprudent 
as  to  leave  in  sight.  He  took  it,  gave  some  of  it  to  the  charm 
ing  Isoude,  and  drank  the  remainder  himself.  The  dog  Hou- 
dain  licked  the  cup.  The  ship  arrived  in  Cornwall,  and  Isoude 
was  married  to  King  Mark.  The  old  monarch  was  delighted 
with  his  bride,  and  his  gratitude  to  Tristram  was  unbounded, 
He  loaded  him  with  honors,  and  made  him  chamberlain  of  his 
palace,  thus  giving  him  access  to  the  queen  at  all  times. 

In  the  midst  of  the  festivities  of  the  court  which  followed  the 
royal  marriage,  an  unknown  minstrel  one  day  presented  himself, 
bearing  a  harp  of  peculiar  construction.  He  excited  the  curiosity 
of  King  Mark  by  refusing  to  play  upon  it  till  he  should  grant 
him  a  boon.  The  king  having  promised  to  grant  his  request,  the 
minstrel,  who  was  none  other  than  the  Saracen  knight,  Sir  Pal- 
amedes,  the  lover  of  the  fair  Isoude,  sung  to  the  harp  a  lay,  in 
which  he  demanded  Isoude  as  the  promised  gift.  King  Mark 
could  not  by  the  laws  of  knighthood  withhold  the  boon.  The 
lady  was  mounted  on  her  horse  and  led  away  by  her  triumphant 
lover.  Tristram,  it  is  needless  to  say,  was  absent  at  the  time, 
and  did  not  return  until  their  departure.  When  he  heard 
what  had  taken  place,  he  seized  his  rote,  and  hastened  to  the 
shore,  where  Isoude  and  her  new  master  had  already  embarked. 
Tristram  played  upon  his  rote,  and  the  sound  reached  the  ears 
of  Isoude,  who  became  so  deeply  affected  that  Sir  Palamedes 
was  induced  to  return  with  her  to  land,  that  they  might  see 
the  unknown  musician.  Tristram  watched  his  opportunity, 
seized  the  lady's  horse  by  the  bridle,  and  plunged  with  her  into 
the  forest,  tauntingly  informing  his  rival  that  "  what  he  had 
got  by  the  harp  he  had  lost  by  the  rote."  Palamedes  pursued, 
and  a  combat  was  about  to  commence,  the  result  of  which 
must  have  been  fatal  to  one  or  other  of  these  gallant  knights ; 
but  Isoude  stepped  between  them,  and,  addressing  Palamedes, 
said,  "  You  tell  me  that  you  love  me  ;  you  will  not  then  deny  me 
the  request  I  am  about  to  make  ?  "  "  Lady,"  he  replied,  "  I  will 
perform  your  bidding."  "  Leave,  then,"  said  she,  "  this  contest, 
and  repair  to  King  Arthur's  court,  and  salute  Queen  Guenever 
for  me ;  tell  her  that  there  are  in  the  world  but  two  ladies, 


THE    STORY    OF    TRISTRAM    OF    LYONESSE.  113 

herself  and  I,  and  two  lovers,  hers  and  mine ;  and  come  thou 
not  in  future  in  any  place  where  I  am."  Palamedes  burst  into 
tears.  "Ah,  lady,"  said  he,  "  I  will  obey  you ;  but  I  beseech 
you  that  you  will  not  forever  steel  your  heart  against  me." 
"Palamedes,"  she  replied, *' may  I  never  taste  of  joy  again  if  I 
ever  quit  my  first  love."  Palamedes  then  went  his  way.  The 
lovers  remained  a  week  in  concealment,  after  which  Tristram 
restored  Isoude  to  her  husband,  advising  him  in  future  to 
reward  minstrels  in  some  other  way. 

The  king  showed  much  gratitude  to  Tristram,  but  in  the 
bottom  of  his  heart  he  cherished  bitter  jealousy  of  him.  One  day 
Tristram  and  Isoude  were  alone  together  in  her  private  chamber. 
A  base  and  cowardly  knight  of  the  court,  named  Andret,  spied 
them  through  a  keyhole.  They  sat  at  a  table  of  chess,  but 
were  not  attending  to  the  game.  Andret  brought  the  king, 
having  first  raised  his  suspicions,  and  placed  him  so  as  to  watch 
their  motions.  The  king  saw  enough  to  confirm  his  suspicions, 
and  he  burst  into  the  apartment  with  his  sword  drawn,  and  had 
nearjy  slain  Tristram  before  he  was  put  on  his  guard.  But 
Tristram  avoided  the  blow,  drew  his  sword,  and  drove  before 
him  the  cowardly  monarch,  chasing  him  through  all  the  apart 
ments  of  the  palace,  giving  him  frequent  blows  with  the  flat 
of  his  sword,  while  he  cried  in  vain  to  his  knights  to  save 
him.  They  were  not  inclined,  or  did  not  dare  to  interpose  in 
his  behalf. 


A  proof  of  the  great  popularity  of  the  tale  of  Sir  Tristram 
is  the  fact  that  the  Italian  poets,  Boiardo  and  Ariosto,  have 
founded  upon  it  the  idea  of  the  two  enchanted  fountains,  which 
produced  the  opposite  effects  of  love  and  hatred.  Boiardo 
thus  describes  the 'fountain  of  hatred  :  — 

"  Fair  was  that  fountain,  sculptured  all  of  gold, 
With  alabaster  sculptured,  rich  and  rare ; 
And  in  its  basin  clear  thou  might'st  behold 
The  flowery  marge  reflected  fresh  and  fair. 


"1.14.  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

Sage  Merlin  framed  the  font,  —  so  legends  bear,  — 

When  on  fair  Isoude  doated  Tristram  brave, 

That  the  good  errant  knight,  arriving  there, 

Might  quaff  oblivion  in  the  enchanted  wave, 

And  leave  his  luckless  love,  and  'scape  his  timeless  grave. 

""  But  ne'er  the  warrior's  evil  fate  allowed 
His  steps  that  fountain's  charmed  verge  to  ffain, 
Though  restless,  roving  on  adventure  proud, 
He  traversed  oft  the  land  and  oft  the  main." 


CHAPTER  XI. 


TRISTRAM   AND   ISOUDE. 

AFTER  this  affair  Tristram  was  banished  from  the  kingdom, 
and  Isoude  shut  up  in  a  tower  which  stood  on  the  bank  of 
a  river.  Tristram  could  not  resolve  to  depart  without  some  fur 
ther  communication  with  his  beloved ;  so  he  concealed  himself 
in  the  forest,  till  at  last  he  contrived  to  attract  her  attention 
by  means  of  twigs,  which  he  curiously  peeled  and  sent  down 
the  stream  under  her  window.  By  this  means  many  secret 
interviews  were  obtained.  Tristram  dwelt  in  the  forest,  sus 
taining  himself  by  game,  which  the  dog  Houdain  ran  down 
for  him ;  for  this  faithful  animal  was  unequalled  in  the  chase, 
and  knew  so  well  his  master's  wish  for  concealment  that  in  the 
pursuit  of  his  game  he  never  barked.  At  length  Tristram  de 
parted,  but  left  Houdain  with  Isoude,  as  a  remembrancer  of 
him. 

Sir  Tristram  wandered  through  various  countries,  achieving 
the  most  perilous  enterprises,  and  covering  himself  with  glory, 

115 


116  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

yet  unhappy  at  the  separation  from  his  beloved  Isoude.  At 
length  King  Mark's  territory  was  invaded  by  a  neighboring- 
chieftain,  and  he  was  forced  to  summon  his  nephew  to  his  aid. 
Tristram  obeyed  the  call,  put  himself  at  the  head  of  his  uncle's 
vassals,  and  drove  the  enemy  out  of  the  country.  Mark  was 
full  of  gratitude,  and  Tristram,  restored  to  favor  and  to  the 
society  of  his  beloved  Isoude,  seemed  at  the  summit  of  happi 
ness.  But  a  sad  reverse  was  at  hand. 

Tristram  had  brought  with  him  a  friend  named  Pheredin, 
son  of  the  king  of  Brittany.  This  young  knight  saw  Queen 
Isoude,  and  could  not  resist  her  charms.  Knowing  the  love  of 
his  friend  for  the  queen,  and  that  that  love  was  returned,  Phe 
redin  concealed  his  own,  until  his  health  failed,  and  he  feared 
he  was  drawing  near  his  end.  He  then  wrote  to  the  beautiful 
queen  that  he  was  dying  for  love  of  her. 

The  gentle  Isoude,  in  a  moment  of  pity  for  the  friend  of 
Tristram,  returned  him  an  answer  so  kin<J  and  compassionate 
that  it  restored  him  to  life.  A  few  days  afterward  Tristram 
found  this  letter.  The  most  terrible  jealousy  took  possession 
of  his  soul ;  he  would  have  slain  Pheredin,  who  with  difficulty 
made  his  escape.  Then  Tristram  mounted  his  horse,  and  rode 
to  the  forest,  where  for  ten  days  he  took  no  rest  nor  food.  At 
length  he  was  found  by  a  damsel  lying  almost  dead  by  the 
brink  of  a  fountain.  She  recognized  him,  and  tried  in  vain  to 
rouse  his  attention.  At  last,  recollecting  his  love  for  music, 
she  went  and  got  her  harp,  and  played  thereon.  Tristram  was 
roused  from  his  reverie;  tears  flowed;  he  breathed  more 
freely  ;  he  took  the  harp  from  the  maiden,  and  sung  this  lay, 
with  a  voice  broken  with  sobs :  — 

"  Sweet  I  sang  in  former  days, 
Kind  love  perfected  my  lays  : 
Now  my  art  alone  displays 
The  woe  that  on  my  being  preys. 

"  Charming  love,  delicious  power, 
Worshipped  from  my  earliest  hour, 
Thou  who  life  on  all  dost  shower, 
Love  !  my  life  thou  dost  devour. 


TRISTRAM    AND    ISOUDE.  117 

"  In  death's  hour  I  beg  of  thee, 
Isoude,  dearest  enemy, 
Thou  who  erst  couldst  kinder  be, 
When  I  'm  gone,  forget  not  me. 

"  On  my  gravestone  passers  by 
Oft  will  read,  as  low  1  lie, 
'Never  wight  in  love  could  vie 
With  Tristram,  yet  she  let  him  die.'  " 

Tristram,  having  finished  his  lay,  wrote  it  off  and  gave  it  to 
the  damsel,  conjuring  her  to  present  it  to  the  queen. 

Meanwhile  Queen  Isoude  was  inconsolable  at  the  absence  of 
Tristram.  She  discovered  that  it  was  caused  by  the  fatal  let 
ter  which  she  had  written  to  Pheredin.  Innocent,  but  in 
despair  at  the  sad  effects  of  her  letter,  she  wrote  another  to 
Pheredin,  charging  him  never  to  see  her  again.  The  unhappy 
lover  obeyed  this  cruel  decree.  He  plunged  into  the  forest, 
and  died  of  grief  and  love  in  a  hermit's  cell. 

Isoude  passed  her  days  in  lamenting  the  absence  and  un 
known  fate  of  Tristram.  One  day  her  jealous  husband,  hav 
ing  entered  her  chamber  unperceived,  overheard  her  singing 
the  following  lay  :  — 

"  My  voice  to  piteous  wail  is  bent, 
My  harp  to  notes  of  languishment ; 
Ah,  love !  delightsome  days  be  meant 
For  happier  wights,  with  hearts  content. 

"  Ah,  Tristram  !  far  away  from  me, 
Art  thou  from  restless  anguisli  free  ? 
Ah  !  couldst  thou  so  one  moment  be, 
From  her  who  so  much  loveth  thee  ? " 

The  king,  hearing  these  words,  burst  forth  in  a  rage ;  but 
Isoude  was  too  wretched  to  fear  his  violence.  "  You  have  heard 
me,"  she  said;  "I  confess  it  all.  I  love  Tristram,  and  always 
shall  love  him.  Without  doubt  he  is  dead,  and  died  for  me. 
I  no  longer  wish  to  live.  The  blow  that  shall  finish  my  misery 
will  be  most  welcome." 

The  king  was  moved  at  the  distress  of  the  fair  Isoude,  and 
perhaps  the  idea  of  Tristram's  death  tended  to  allay  his  wrath. 
He  left  the  queen  in  charge  of  her  women,  commanding  them 


118  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

to  take  especial  care  lest  her  despair  should  lead  her  to  do  harm 
to  herself. 

Tristram,  meanwhile,  distracted  as  he  was,  rendered  a  most 
important  service  to  the  shepherds  by  slaying  a  gigantic  robber 
named  Taullas,  who  was  in  the  habit  of  plundering  their  flocks 
and  rifling  their  cottages.  The  shepherds,  in  their  gratitude  to 
Tristram,  bore  him  in  triumph  to  King  Mark  to  have  him  be 
stow  on  him  a  suitable  reward.  No  wonder  Mark  failed  to 
recognize  in  the  half-clad  wild  man  before  him  his  nephew 
Tristram ;  but  grateful  for  the  service  the  unknown  had  ren 
dered,  he  ordered  him  to  be  well  taken  care  of,  and  gave  him 
in  charge  to  the  queen  and  her  women.  Under  such  care 
Tristram  rapidly  recovered  his  serenity  and  his  health,  so  that 
the  romancer  tells  us  he  became  handsomer  than  ever.  King 
Mark's  jealousy  revived  with  Tristram's  health  and  good  looks, 
and,  in  spite  of  his  debt  of  gratitude  so  lately  increased,  he 
again  banished  him  from  the  court. 

Sir  Tristram  left  Cornwall,  and  proceeded  into  the  land  of 
Loegria  (England)  in  quest  of  adventures.  One  day  he  en 
tered  a  wide  forest.  The  sound  of  a  little  bell  showed  him 
that  some  inhabitant  was  near.  He  followed  the  sound,  and 
found  a  hermit,  who  informed  him  that  he  was  in  the  forest  of 
Arnantes,  belonging  to  the  fairy  Viviane,  the  Lady  of  the  Lake, 
who,  smitten  with  love  for  King  Arthur,  had  found  means  to 
entice  him  to  this  forest,  where  by  enchantments  she  held  him 
a  prisoner,  having  deprived  him  of  all  memory  of  who  and 
what  he  was.  The  hermit  informed  him  that  all  the  knights 
of  the  Round  Table  were  out  in  search  of  the  king,  and  that 
he  (Tristram)  wras  now  in  the  scene  of  the  most  grand  and  im 
portant  adventures. 

This  was  enough  to  animate  Tristram  in  the  search.  He 
had  not  wandered  far  before  he  encountered  a  knight  of  Ar 
thur's  court,  who  proved  to  be  Sir  Kay  the  seneschal,  who 
demanded  of  him  whence  he  came.  Tristram  answering, 
"  From  Cornwall,"  Sir  Kay  did  not  let  slip  the  opportunity  of 
a  joke  at  the  expense  of  the  Cornish  knight.  Tristram  chose 
to  leave  him  in  his  error,  and  even  confirmed  him  in  it;  for, 
meeting  some  other  knights,  Tristram  declined  to  joust  with 


TRISTRAM    AND    ISOUDE.  111> 

them.  They  spent  the  night  together  at  an  abbey,  where  Tris 
tram  submitted  patiently  to  all  their  jokes.  The  seneschal 
gave  the  word  to  his  companions  that  they  should  set  out  early 
next  day,  and  ^intercept  the  Cornish  knight  on  his  way,  and 
enjoy  the  amusement  of  seeing  his  fright  when  they  should 
insist  on  running  a  tilt  with  hirn.  Tristram  next  morning 
found  himself  alone;  he  put  on  his  armor,  and  set  out  to  con 
tinue  his  quest.  He  soon  saw  before  him  the  seneschal  and  the 
three  knights,  who  barred  the  way,  and  insisted  on  a  joust. 
Tristram  excused  himself  a  long  time;  at  last  he  reluctantly 
took  his  stand.  He  encountered  them,  one  after  the  other,  and 
overthrew  them  all  four,  man  and  horse,  and  then  rode  off, 
bidding  them  not  to  forget  their  friend,  the  knight  of  Cornwall. 

Tristram  had  not  ridden  far  when  he  met  a  damsel, 
who  cried  out,  "Ah,  my  lord  !  hasten  forward,  and  prevent  a 
horrid  treason  ! "  Tristram  flew  to  her  assistance,  and  soon 
reached  a  spot  where  he  beheld  a  knight,  whom  three  others 
had  borne  to  the  ground,  and  were  unlacing  his  helmet  in  order 
to  cut  off  his  head. 

Tristram  flew  to  the  rescue,  and  slew  with  one  stroke  of  his 
lance  one  of  the  assailants.  The  knight,  recovering  his  feet, 
sacrificed  another  to  his  vengeance,  and  the  third  made  his 
escape.  The  rescued  knight  then  raised  the  visor  of  his 
helmet,  and  a  long  white  beard  fell  down  upon  his  breast. 
The  majesty  and  venerable  air  of  this  knight  made  Tristram 
suspect  that  it  was  none  other  than  Arthur  himself,  and  the 
prince  confirmed  his  conjecture.  Tristram  would  have  knelt 
before  him,  but  Arthur  received  him  in  his  arms,  and  inquired 
his  name  and  country;  but  Tristram  declined  to  disclose  themr 
on  the  plea  that  he  was  now  on  a  quest  requiring  secrecy.  At 
this  moment  the  damsel  who  had  brought  Tristram  to  the 
rescue  darted  forward,  and,  seizing  the  king's  hand,  drew  from 
his  finger  a  ring,  the  gift  of  the  fairy,  and  by  that  act  dissolved 
the  enchantment.  Arthur,  having  recovered  his  reason  and 
his  memory,  offered  to  Tristram  to  attach  him  to  his  court, 
and  to  confer  honors  and  dignities  upon  him ;  but  Tristram 
declined  all,  and  only  consented  to  accompany  him  till  he 
should  see  him  safe  in  the  hands  of  his  knights.  Soon  after, 


120  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

Hector  de  Marys  rode  up,  and  saluted  the  king,  who  on  his 
part  introduced  him  to  Tristram  as  one  of  the  bravest  of  his 
knights.  Tristram  took  leave  of  the  king  and  his  faithful 
follower,  and  continued  his  quest. 

We  cannot  follow  Tristram  through  all  the  adventures 
which  filled  this  epoch  of  his  history.  Suffice  it  to  say,  he 
fulfilled  on  all  occasions  the  duty  of  a  true  knight,  rescuing 
the  oppressed,  redressing  wrongs,  abolishing  evil  customs,  and 
suppressing  injustice,  thus  by  constant  action  endeavoring  to 
lighten  the  pains  of  absence  from  her  he  loved.  In  the  mean 
time  Isoude,  separated  from  her  dear  Tristram,  passed  her 
•days  in  languor  and  regret.  At  length  she  could  no  longer 
resist  the  desire  to  hear  some  news  of  her  lover.  She  wrote  a 
letter,  and  sent  it  by  one  of  her  damsels,  niece  of  her  faithful 
Brengwain.  One  day  Tristram,  weary  with  his  exertions, 
had  dismounted  and  laid  himself  down  by  the  side  of  a 
fountain  and  fallen  asleep.  The  damsel  of  Queen  Isoude 
arrived  at  the  same  fountain,  and  recognized  Passebreul,  the 
horse  of  Tristram,  and  presently  perceived  his  master,  asleep. 
He  was  thin  and  pale,  showing  evident  marks  of  the  pain 
he  suffered  in  separation  from  his  beloved.  She  awaked  him, 
and  gave  him  the  letter  which  she  bore,  and  Tristram  enjoyed 
the  pleasure,  so  sweet  to  a  lover,  of  hearing  from  and  talking 
about  the  object  of  his  affections.  He  prayed  the  damsel  to 
postpone  her  return  till  after  the  magnificent  tournament 
which  Arthur  had  proclaimed  should  have  taken  place,  and 
'Conducted  her  to  the  castle  of  Persides,  a  brave  and  loyal 
knight,  who  received  her  with  great  consideration. 

Tristram  conducted  the  damsel  of  Queen  Isoude  to  the 
tournament,  and  had  her  placed  in  the  balcony  among  the 
ladies  of  the  queen.  He  then  joined  the  tourney.  Nothing 
could  exceed  his  strength  and  valor.  Launcelot  admired  him, 
and  by  a  secret  presentiment  declined  to  dispute  the  honor  of 
the  day  with  a  knight  so  gallant  and  so  skilful.  Arthur 
descended  from  the  balcony  to  greet  the  conqueror ;  but  the 
modest  and  devoted  Tristram,  content  with  having  borne  off 
the  prize  in  the  sight  of  the  messenger  of  Isoude,  made  his  escape 
with  her,  and  disappeared. 


TRISTRAM    AND    ISOUDE.  121 

The  next  day  the  tourney  recommenced.  Tristram  assumed 
different  armor,  that  he  might  not  be  known ;  but  he  was 
soon  detected  by  the  terrible  blows  that  he  gave.  Arthur  and 
Guenever  had  no  doubt  that  it  was  the  same  knight  who  had 
borne  off  the  prize  of  the  chiy  before.  Arthur's  gallant  spirit 
was  roused.  After  Launcelot  of  the  Lake  and  Sir  Gawain,  he 
was  accounted  the  best  knight  of  the  Round  Table.  He  went 
privately  and  armed  himself,  and  came  into  the  tourney  in 
undistinguished  armor.  He  ran  a  joust  with  Tristram,  whom 
he  shook  in  his  seat ;  but  Tristram,  who  did  not  know  him, 
threw  him  out  of  the  saddle.  Arthur  recovered  himself,  and, 
content  with  having  made  proof  of  the  stranger  knight,  bade 
Launcelot  finish  the  adventure,  and  vindicate  the  honor  of  the 
Round  Table.  Sir  Launcelot,  at  the  bidding  of  the  monarch, 
assailed  Tristram,  whose  lance  was  already  broken  in  former 
encounters.  But  the  law  of  this  sort  of  combat  was,  that  the 
knight,  after  having  broken  his  lance,  must  fight  with  his 
sword,  and  must  not  refuse  to  meet  with  his  shield  the  lance  of 
his  antagonist.  Tristram  met  Launcelot's  charge  upon  his 
shield,  which  that  terrible  lance  could  not  fail  to  pierce.  It 
inflicted  a  wound  upon  Tristram's  side,  and  breaking,  left  the 
iron  in  the  wound.  But  Tristram  also  with  his  sword  smote 
so  vigorously  on  Launcelot's  casque  that  he  cleft  it,  and 
wounded  his  head.  The  wound  was  not  deep,  but  the  blood 
flowed  into  his  eyes,  and  blinded  him  for  a  moment,  and 
Tristram,  who  thought  himself  mortally  wounded,  retired  from 
the  field.  Launcelot  declared  to  the  king  that  he  had  never 
received  such  a  blow  in  his  life  before. 

Tristram  hastened  to  Gouvernail,  his  squire,  who  drew  forth 
the  iron,  bound  up  the  wound,  and  gave  him  immediate  ease. 
Tristram,  after  the  tournament,  kept  retired  in  his  tent,  but 
Arthur,  with  the  consent  of  all  the  knights  of  the  Round  Table, 
decreed  him  the  honors  of  the  second  day.  But  it  was  no 
longer  a  secret  that  the  victor  of  the  two  days  was  the  same 
individual,  and  Gouvernail,  being  questioned,  confirmed  the 
suspicions  of  Launcelot  and  Arthur,  that  it  was  no  other  than 
Sir  Tristram  of  Lyonesse,  the  nephew  of  the  king  of  Cornwall. 

King  Arthur,  who  desired  to  reward  his  distinguished  valor, 


122  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS 

and  knew  that  his  uncle  Mark  had  ungratefully  banished  him, 
would  have  eagerly  availed  himself  of  the  opportunity  to 
attach  Tristram  to  his  court,  —  ail  the  knights  of  the  Round 
Table  declaring  with  acclamation  that  it  would  be  impossible 
to  find  a  more  worthy  companion.  But  Tristram  had  already 
departed  in  search  of  adventures,  and  the  damsel  of  Queen 
Isoude  returned  to  her  mistress. 


CHAPTER  XII. 


THE   STORY   OF    SIR   TRISTRAM  OF  LYONESSE. 

SIR  TRISTRAM  rode  through  a  forest,  and  saw  ten  men 
fighting,  and  one  man  did  battle  against  nine.  So  he  rode 
to  the  knights  and  cried  to  them,  bidding  them  cease  their 
battle,  for  they  did  themselves  great  shame,  so  many  knights  to 
fight  against  one.  Then  answered  the  master  of  the  knights 
(his  name  was  Sir  Breuse  sans  Pitie,  who  was  at  that  time  the 
most  villainous  knight  living)  :  "  Sir  knight,  what  have  ye  to 
do  to  meddle  with  us  ?  If  ye  be  wise,  depart  on  your  way  as 
you  came,  for  this  knight  shall  not  escape  us."  "  That  were 
pity,"  said  Sir  Tristram,  "  that  so  good  a  knight  should  be  slain 
so  cowardly  ;  therefore  I  warn  you  I  will  succor  him  with  all 
my  puissance." 

Then  Sir  Tristram  alighted  off  his  horse,  because  they  were 
on  foot,  that  they  should  not  slay  his  horse.  And  he  smote  on 
the  right  hand  and  on  the  left  so  vigorously,  that  well-nigh  at 
every  stroke  he  struck  down  a  knight.  At  last  they  fled,  with 

123 


124  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

Breuse  sans  Pitie,  into  the  tower,  and  shut  Sir  Tristram  with 
out  the  gate.  Then  Sir  Tristram  returned  back  to  the  rescued 
knight,  and  found  him  sitting  under  a  tree,  sore  wounded. 
"  Fair  knight,"  said  he,  "  how  is  it  with  you  ?"  "  Sir  knight," 
said  Sir  Palamedes,  for  he  it  was,  "  I  thank  you  for  your  great 
goodness,  for  ye  have  rescued  me  from  death."  "  What  is  your 
name  ? "  said  Sir  Tristram.  He  said,  "  My  name  is  Sir 
Palamedes."  "Say  ye  so?  "said  Sir  Tristram;  "now  know 
that  thou  art  the  man  in  the  world  that  I  most  hate ;  therefore 
make  thee  ready,  for  I  will  do  battle  with  thee."  "  What  is 
your  name?"  said  Sir  Palamedes.  "My  name  is  Sir  Tristram, 
your  mortal  enemy."  "  It  may  be  so,"  said  Sir  Palamedes ; 
"  but  you  have  done  overmuch  for  me  this  day,  that  I  should 
fight  with  you.  Moreover,  it  will  be  no  honor  for  you  to  have 
to  do  with  me,  for  you  are  fresh  and  I  am  wounded.  There 
fore,  if  you  will  needs  have  to  do  with  me,  assign  me  a  day, 
and  I  shall  meet  you  without  fail."  "  You  say  well,"  said  Sir 
Tristram  ;  "  now  I  assign  you  to  meet  me  in  the  meadow  by  the 
river  of  Camelot,  where  Merlin  set  the  monument."  So  they 
were  agreed.  Then  they  departed,  and  took  their  ways 
diverse.  Sir  Tristram  passed  through  a  great  forest  into  a 
plain,  till  he  came  to  a  priory,  and  there  he  reposed  him  with  a 
good  man  six  days. 

Then  departed  Sir  Tristram,  and  rode  straight  into  Camelot 
to  the  monument  of  Merlin,  and  there  he  looked  about  him  for 
Sir  Palamedes.  And  he  perceived  a  seemly  knight,  who  came 
riding  against  him  all  in  white,  with  a  covered  shield.  When 
he  came  nigh,  Sir  Tristram  said  aloud,  "  Welcome,  sir  knight, 
and  well  and  truly  have  you  kept  your  promise."  Then  they 
made  ready  their  shields  and  spears,  and  came  together  with  all 
the  might  of  their  horses,  so  fiercely,  that  both  the  horses  and 
the  knights  fell  to  the  earth.  And  as  soon  as  they  might,  they 
quitted  their  horses,  and  struck  together  with  bright  swords  as 
men  of  might,  and  each  wounded  the  other  wonderfully  sore, 
so  that  the  blood  ran  out  upon  the  grass.  Thus  they  fought 
for  the  space  of  four  hours,  and  never  one  would  speak  to  the 
other  one  word.  Then  at  last  spake  the  white  knight,  and 
said,  "  Sir,  thou  fightest  wonderful  well,  as  ever  I  saw  knight ;, 


STORY    OF    SIR    TRISTRAM    OF    LYONESSE.  125 

therefore,  if  it  please  you,  tell  me  your  name."  "  Why  dost 
thou  ask  my  name  ? "  said  Sir  Tristram ;  "  art  thou  not  Sir 
Palamedes?"  "No,  fair  knight,"  said  he,  "I  am  Sir  Launcelot 
of  the  Lake."  i'Alas!"  said  Sir  Tristram,  "what  have  I 
done?  for  you  are  the  matt  of  the  world  that  I  love  best." 
"Fair  knight,"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "tell  me  your  name." 
"  Truly,"  said  he,  "  my  name  is  Sir  Tristram  de  Lyonesse." 
"  Alas !  alas ! "  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "  what  adventure  has 
befallen  me  !  "  And  therewith  Sir  Launcelot  kneeled  down, 
and  yielded  him  up  his  sword;  and  Sir  Tristram  kneeled 
down,  and  yielded  him  up  his  sword  ;  and  so  either  gave 
other  the  degree.  And  then  they  both  went  to  the  stone,  and 
sat  them  down  upon  it,  and  took  off  their  helms,  and  each 
kissed  the  other  a  hundred  times.  And  then  anon  they  rode 
toward  Camelot,  and  on  the  way  they  met  with  Sir  Gawain 
and  Sir  Gaheris,  that  had  made  promise  to  Arthur  never  to 
come  again  to  the  court  till  they  had  brought  Sir  Tristram 
with  them. 

"  Return  again,"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "  for  your  quest  is  done  ; 
for  I  have  met  with  Sir  Tristram.  Lo,  here  he  is  in  his  own 
person."  Then  was  Sir  Gawain  glad,  and  said  to  Sir  Tristram, 
"  Ye  are  welcome."  With  this  came  King  Arthur,  and  when 
he  wist  there  was  Sir  Tristram,  he  ran  unto  him,  and  took 
him  by  the  hand,  and  said,  "  Sir  Tristram,  ye  are  as  welcome 
as  any  knight  that  ever  came  to  this  court."  Then  Sir  Tris 
tram  told  the  king  how  he  came  thither  for  to  have  had  to  do 
with  Sir  Palamedes,  and  how  he  had  rescued  him  from  Sir 
Breuse  sans  Pitie  and  the  nine  knights.  Then  King  Arthur 
took  Sir  Tristram  by  the  hand,  and  went  to  the  Table  Round, 
and  Queen  Guenever  came,  and  many  ladies  with  her,  and  all 
the  ladies  said  with  one  voice,  "Welcome,  Sir  Tristram." 
"Welcome,"  said  the  knights.  "Welcome,"  said  Arthur, 
"for  one  of  the  best  of  knights,  and  the  gentlest  of  the  world, 
and  the  man  of  most  worship;  for  of  all  manner  of  hunting 
thou  bearest  the  prize,  and  of  all  measures  of  blowing  thou  art 
the  beginning,  and  of  all  the  terms  of  hunting  and  hawking  ye 
are  the  inventor,  and  of  all  instruments  of  music  ye  are  the 
best  skilled ;  therefore,  gentle  knight,"  said  Arthur,  "  ye  are 


126  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

welcome  to  this  court."  And  then  King  Arthur  made  Sir 
Tristram  knight  of  the  Table  Round  with  great  nobley  and 
feasting  as  can  be  thought. 

The  Round  Table  had  been  made  by  the  famous  enchanter 
Merlin,  and  on  it  he  had  exerted  all  his  skill  and  craft.  Of 
the  seats  which  surrounded  it  he  had  constructed  thirteen,  in 
memory  of  the  thirteen  Apostles.  Twelve  of  these  seats  only 
could  be  occupied,  and  they  only  by  knights  of  the  highest 
fame ;  the  thirteenth  represented  the  seat  of  the  traitor  Judas. 
It  remained  always  empty.  It  was  called  the  perilous  seat 
ever  since  a  rash  and  haughty  Saracen  knight  had  dared  to 
place  himself  in  it,  when  the  earth  opened  and  swallowed 
him  up. 

A  magic  power  wrote  upon  each  seat  the  name  of  the  knight 
who  was  entitled  to  sit  in  it.  No  one  could  succeed  to  a  vacant 
seat  unless  he  surpassed  in  valor  and  glorious  deeds  the  knight 
who  had  occupied  it  before  him  ;  without  this  qualification  he 
would  be  violently  repelled  by  a  hidden  force.  Thus  proof 
was  made  of  all  those  who  presented  themselves  to  replace 
any  companions  of  the  order  who  had  fallen. 

One  of  the  principal  seats,  that  of  Moraunt  of  Ireland,  had 
been  vacant  ten  years,  and  his  name  still  remained  over  it  ever 
since  the  time  when  that  distinguished  champion  fell  beneath 
the  sword  of  Sir  Tristram.  Arthur  now  took  Tristram  by  the 
hand  and  led  him  to  that  seat.  Immediately  the  most  melo 
dious  sounds  were  heard,  and  exquisite  perfumes  filled  the 
place  ;  the  name  of  Moraunt  disappeared,  and  that  of  Tristram 
blazed  forth  in  light.  The  rare  modesty  of  Tristram  had  now 
to  be  subjected  to  a  severe  task ;  for  the  clerks  charged  with 
the  duty  of  preserving  the  annals  of  the  Round  Table  attended, 
and  he  was  required  by  the  law  of  his  order  to  declare  what 
feats  of  arms  he  had  accomplished  to  entitle  him  to  take  that 
seat.  This  ceremony  being  ended,  Tristram  received  the  con 
gratulations  of  all  his  companions.  Sir  Launcelot  and  Guen- 
ever  took  the  occasion  to  speak  to  liim  of  the  fair  Isoude,  and 
to  express  their  wish  that  some  happy  chance  might  bring  her 
to  the  kingdom  of  Loegria. 

While  Tristram  was  thus  honored  and  caressed  at  the  court 


STOKY    OF    SIR    TRISTRAM    OF    LYONESSE.  127 

of  King  Arthur,  the  most  gloomy  and  malignant  jealousy 
harassed  the  soul  of  Mark.  He  could  not  look  upon  Isoude 
without  remembering  that  she  loved  Tristram,  and  the  good 
fortune  of  his  nephew  goaded  him  to  thoughts  of  vengeance. 
He  at  last  resolved  to  go  (Disguised  into  the  kingdom  of  Loe- 
gria,  attack  Tristram  by  stealth,  and  put  him  to  death.  He 
took  with  him  two  knights,  brought  up  in  his  court,  who  he 
thought  were  devoted  to  him ;  and,  not  willing  to  leave  Isoude 
behind,  named  two  of  her  maidens  to  attend  her,  together 
with  her  faithful  Brengwain,  and  made  them  accompany  him. 

Having  arrived  in  the  neighborhood  of  Camelot,  Mark  im 
parted  his  plan  to  his  two  knights,  but  they  rejected  it  with 
horror;  nay,  more,  they  declared  that  they  would  no  longer 
remain  in  his  service ;  and  left  him,  giving  him  reason  to  sup 
pose  that  they  should  repair  to  the  court  to  accuse  him  before 
Arthur.  It  was  necessary  for  Mark  to  meet  and  rebut  their 
accusation ;  so,  leaving  Isoude  in  an  abbey,  he  pursued  his  way 
alone  to  Camelot. 

Mark  had  not  ridden  far  when  he  encountered  a  party  of 
knights  of  Arthur's  court,  and  would  have  avoided  them,  for 
he  knew  their  habit  of  challenging  to  a  joust  every  stranger 
knight  whom  they  met.  But  it  was  too  late.  They  had  seen 
his  armor,  and  recognized  him  as  a  Cornish  knight,  and  at  once 
resolved  to  have  some  sport  with  him.  It  happened  they  had 
with  them,  Daguenet,  King  Arthur's  fool,  who,  though  de 
formed  and  weak  of  body,  was  not  wanting  in  courage.  The 
knights  as  Mark  approached  laid  their  plan  that  Daguenet 
should  personate  Sir  Launcelot  of  the  Lake,  and  challenge  the 
Cornish  knight.  They  equipped  him  in  armor  belonging  to 
one  of  their  number  who  was  ill,  and  sent  him  forward  to  the 
cross-road  to  defy  the  strange  knight.  Mark,  who  saw  that  his 
antagonist  was  by  no  means  formidable  in  appearance,  was  not 
disinclined  to  the  combat ;  but  when  the  dwarf  rode  towards 
him,  calling  out  that  he  was  Sir  Launcelot  of  the  Lake,  his 
fears  prevailed,  he  put  spurs  to  his  horse,  and  rode  away  at  full 
speed,  pursued  by  the  shouts  and  laughter  of  the  party. 

Meanwhile  Isoude,  remaining  at  the  abbey  with  her  faithful 
Brengwain,  found  her  only  amusement  in  walking  occasionally 


128  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

in  a  forest  adjoining  the  abbey.  There,  on  the  brink  of  a  foun 
tain  girdled  with  trees,  she  thought  of  her  love,  and  sometimes 
joined  her  voice  and  her  harp  in  lays  reviving  the  memory  of 
its  pains  or  pleasures.  One  day  the  caitiff  knight,  Breuse  the 
Pitiless,  heard  her  voice,  concealed  himself,  and  drew  near. 
She  sang :  — 

"  Sweet  silence,  shadowy  bower,  and  verdant  lair, 

Ye  court  my  troubled  spirit  to  repose, 
Whilst  I,  such  dear  remembrance  rises  there, 
Awaken  every  echo  with  my  woes. 

"  Within  these  woods,  by  Nature's  hand  arrayed, 

A  fountain  springs,  and  feeds  a  thousand  flowers ; 
Ah  !  how  my  groans  do  all  its  murmurs  aid ! 

How  my  sad  eyes  do  swell  it  with  their  showers ! 

"  What  doth  my  knight  the  while  ?  to  him  is  given 

A  double  meed;  in  love  and  arms'  emprise, 
Him  the  Round  Table  elevates  to  heaven ! 
Tristram !  ah  me !  he  hears  not  Isoude's  cries. 

Breuse  the  Pitiless,  who,  like  most  other  caitiffs,  had  felt  the 
weight  of  Tristram's  arm,  and  hated  him  accordingly,  at  hear 
ing  his  name  breathed  forth  by  the  beautiful  songstress,  im 
pelled  by  a  double  impulse,  rushed  forth  from  his  concealment 
and  laid  hands  on  his  victim.  Isoude  fainted,  and  Brengwain 
filled  the  air  with  her  shrieks.  Breuse  carried  Isoude  to  the 
place  where  he  had  left  his  horse  ;  but  the  animal  had  got  away 
from  his  bridle,  and  was  at  some  distance.  He  was  obliged  to 
lay  down  his  fair  burden,  and  go  in  pursuit  of  his  horse.  Just 
then  a  knight  came  up,  drawn  by  the  cries  of  Brengwain,  and 
demanded  the  cause  of  her  distress.  She  could  not  speak,  but 
pointed  to  her  mistress  lying  insensible  on  the  ground. 

Breuse  had  by  this  time  returned,  and  the  cries  of  Breng 
wain,  renewed  at  seeing  him,  sufficiently  showed  the  stranger 
the  cause  of  the  distress.  Tristram  spurred  his  horse  towards 
Breuse,  who,  not  unprepared,  ran  to  the  encounter.  Breuse 
was  unhorsed,  and  lay  motionless,  pretending  to  be  dead  ;  but 
when  the  stranger  knight  left  him  to  attend  to  the  distressed 
damsels,  he  mounted  his  horse,  and  made  his  escape. 

The  knight  now  approached  Isoude,  gently  raised  her  head, 


STORY    OF    SIR   TRISTRAM    OF    LYONESSE.  129 

drew  aside  the  golden  hair  which  covered  her  countenance, 
gazed  thereon  for  an  instant,  uttered  a  cry,  and  fell  back  in 
sensible.  Brengwain  came ;  her  cares  soon  restored  her  mis 
tress  to  life,  and  they  then  turned  their  attention  to  the  fallen 
warrior.  They  raised  hisvvisor,  and  discovered  the  counte 
nance  of  Sir  Tristram.  Isoude  threw  herself  on  the  body  of 
ner  lover,  and  bedewed  his  face  with  her  tears.  Their  warmth 
revived  the  knight,  and  Tristram,  on  awaking,  found  himself  in 
the  arms  of  his  dear  Isoude. 

It  was  the  law  of  the  Round  Table  that  each  knight  after 
his  admission  should  pass  the  next  ten  days  in  quest  of  adven 
tures,  during  which  time  his  companions  might  meet  him  in 
disguised  armor,  and  try  their  strength  with  him.  Tristram 
had  now  been  out  seven  days,  and  in  that  time  had  encountered 
many  of  the  best  knights  of  the  Round  Table,  and  acquitted 
himself  with  honor.  During  the  remaining  three  days  Isoude 
remained  at  the  abbey,  under  his  protection,  and  then  set  out 
with  her  maidens,  escorted  by  Sir  Tristram,  to  rejoin  King 
Mark  at  the  court  of  Camelot. 

This  happy  journey  was  one  of  the  brightest  epochs  in  the 
lives  of  Tristram  and  Isoude.  He  celebrated  it  by  a  lay  upon 
the  harp  in  a  peculiar  measure,  to  which  the  French  give  the 
name  of  Triolet :  — 

"  With  fair  Isoude,  and  with  love, 
Ah  !  how  sweet  the  life  I  lead  ! 
How  blest  forever  thus  to  rove, 
With  fair  Isoude,  and  with  love ! 
As  she  wills,  I  live  and  move, 
And  cloudless  days  to  days  succeed : 
With  fair  Isoude,  and  with  love, 
Ah !  how  sweet  the  life  I  lead ! 

"  Journeying  on  from  break  of  day, 
Feel  you  not  fatigued,  my  fair  ? 
Yon  green  turf  invites  to  play; 
Journeying  on  from  day  to  day, 
Ah  !  let  us  to  that  shade  away, 
Were  it  but  to  slumber  there ! 
Journeying  on  from  break  of  day, 
Feel  you  not  fatigued,  my  fair  ?  " 


130  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

They  arrived  at  Camelot,  where  Sir  Launcelot  received  them 
most  cordially.  Isoude  was  introduced  to  King  Arthur  and 
Queen  Guenever,  who  welcomed  her  as  a  sister.  As  King 
Mark  was  held  in  arrest  under  the  accusation  of  the  two 
Cornish  knights,  Queen  Isoude  could  not  rejoin  her  husband, 
and  Sir  Launcelot  placed  his  castle  of  La  Joyeuse  Garde  at 
the  disposal  of  his  friends,  who  there  took  up  their  abode. 

King  Mark,  who  found  himself  obliged  to  confess  the  truth 
of  the  charge  against  him,  or  to  clear  himself  by  combat  with 
his  accusers,  preferred  the  former,  and  King  Arthur,  as  his 
crime  had  not  been  perpetrated,  remitted  the  penalty,  only 
enjoining  upon  him,  under  pain  of  his  signal  displeasure,  to 
lay  aside  all  thoughts  of  vengeance  against  his  nephew.  In 
the  presence  of  the  king  and  his  court,  all  parties  were  formally 
reconciled  ;  Mark  and  his  queen  departed  for  their  home,  and 
Tristram  remained  at  Arthur's  court. 


CHAPTER  XIIL 

END   OF  THE  STORY   OF  SIR  TRISTRAM  OF  LYONESSE. 

WHILE  Sir  Tristram  and  the  fair  Isoude  abode  yet  at  La 
Joyeuse  Garde,  Sir  Tristram  rode  forth  one  day,  with 
out  armor,  having  no  weapon  but  his  spear  and  his  sword. 
And  as  he  rode  he  came  to  a  place  where  he  saw  two  knights 
in  battle,  and  one  of  them  had  gotten  the  better,  and  the  other 
lay  overthrown.  The  knight  who  had  the  better  was  Sir 
Palamedes.  When  Sir  Palamedes  knew  Sir  Tristram,  he 
cried  out,  "  Sir  Tristram,  now  we  be  met,  and  ere  we  depart 
we  will  redress  our  old  wrongs."  "  As  for  that,"  said  Sir 
Tristram,  "there  never  yet  was  Christian  man  that  might 
make  his  boast  that  I  ever  fled  from  him,  and  tliou  that  art  a 
Saracen  shalt  never  say  that  of  me."  And  therewith  Sir 
Tristram  made  his  horse  to  run,  and  with  all  his  might  came 
straight  upon  Sir  Palamedes,  and  broke  his  spear  upon  him. 
Then  he  drew  his  sword  and  struck  at  Sir  Palamedes  six  great 
strokes,  upon  his  helm.  Sir  Palamedes  saw  that  Sir  Tristram 
had  not  his  armor  on,  and  he  marvelled  at  his  rashness  and  his 

131 


132  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

great  folly ;  and  said  to  himself,  "  If  I  meet  and  slay  him  I  am 
ashamed  wheresoever  I  go."  Then  Sir  Tristram  cried  out  and 
said,  "  Thou  coward  knight,  why  wilt  thou  not  do  battle  with 
me?  for  have  thou  no  doubt  I  shall  endure  all  thy  malice." 
"  Ah,  Sir  Tristram ! "  said  Sir  Palarnedes,  "  thou  knowest 
I  may  not  fight  with  thee  for  shame  ;  for  thou  art  here  naked, 
and  I  am  armed ;  now  I  require  that  thou  answer  me  a 
-question  that  I  shall  ask  you."  "Tell  me  what  it  is,"  said 
Sir  Tristram.  "  I  put  the  case,"  said  Sir  Palamedes,  "  that 
you  were  well  armed,  and  I  naked  as  ye  be ;  what  would  you 
do  to  me  now,  by  your  true  knighthood?"  "Ah!  "said  Sir 
Tristram,  "now  I  understand  thee  well,  Sir  Palamedes;  and, 
as  God  me  bless,  what  I  shall  say  shall  not  be  said  for  fear  that 
I  have  of  thee.  But  if  it  \vere  so,  thou  shouldest  depart  from 
me,  for  I  would  not  have  to  do  with  thee."  "  No  more  will  I 
with  thee,"  said  Sir  Palamedes,  "  and  therefore  ride  forth  on 
thy  way."  "  As  for  that,  I  may  choose,"  said  Sir  Tristram, 
"  either  to  ride  or  to  abide.  But,  Sir  Palamedes,  I  marvel  at 
one  thing,  —  that  thou  art  so  good  a  knight,  yet  that  thou  wilt 
not  be  christened."  "  As  for  that,"  said  Sir  Palamedes,  "  I 
may  not  yet  be  christened,  for  a  vow  which  I  made  many  years 
ago ;  yet  in  my  heart  I  believe  in  our  Saviour  and  his  mild 
mother  Mary  ;  but  I  have  yet  one  battle  to  do,  and  when  that 
is  done  I  will  be  christened,  with  a  good  will."  "By  rny 
head,"  said  Sir  Tristram,  "  as  for  that  one  battle,  thou  shalt 
seek  it  no  longer;  for  yonder  is  a  knight,  whom  you  have 
smitten  down.  Now  help  me  to  be  clothed  in  his  armor,  and  I 
will  soon  fulfil  thy  vow."  "  As  ye  will,"  said  Sir  Palamedes, 
"  so  shall  it  be."  So  they  rode  both  unto  that  knight  that  sat 
on  a  bank ;  and  Sir  Tristram  saluted  him,  and  he  full  weakly 
saluted  him  again.  "  Sir,"  said  Sir  Tristram,  "  I  pray  you  to 
lend  me  your  whole  armor ;  for  I  am  unarmed,  and  I  must  do 
battle  with  this  knight."  "  Sir,"  said  the  hurt  knight,  "  you 
shall  have  it,  with  a  right  good  will."  Then  Sir  Tristram 
unarmed  Sir  Galleron,  for  that  was  the  name  of  the  hurt 
knight,  and  he  as  well  as  he  could  helped  to  arm  Sir  Tristram. 
Then  Sir  Tristram  mounted  upon  his  own  horse,  and  in  his 
hand  he  took  Sir  Galleron's  spear.  Thereupon  Sir  Palamedes 


STORY    OF    SIR    TRISTRAM    OF    LYONESSE.  133 

was  ready,  and  so  they  came  hurtling  together,  and  each  smote 
the  other  in  the  midst  of  their  shields.  Sir  Palamedes' 
spear  broke,  and  Sir  Tristram  srnote  down  the  horse.  Then  Sir 
Palamedes  leap.t  from  his  horse,  and  drew  out  his  sword.  That 
saw  Sir  Tristram,  and  therewith  he  alighted  and  tied  his  horse 
to  a  tree.  Then  they  came  together  as  two  wild  beasts, 
lashing  the  one  on  the  other,  and  so  fought  more  than  two 
hours;  and  often  Sir  Tristram  smote  such  strokes  at  Sir 
Palamedes  that  he  made  him  to  kneel,  and  Sir  Palamedes 
broke  away  Sir  Tristram's  shield,  and  wounded  him.  Then 
Sir  Tristram  was  wroth  out  of  measure,  and  he  rushed  to  Sir 
Palamedes  and  wounded  him  passing  sore  through  the 
shoulder,  and  by  fortune  smote  Sir  Palamedes'  sword  out  of 
his  hand.  And  if  Sir  Palamedes  had  stooped  for  his  sword, 
Sir  Tristram  had  slain  him.  Then  Sir  Palamedes  stood  and 
beheld  his  sword  with  a  full  sorrowful  heart.  "Now,"  said 
Sir  Tristram,  "  I  have  thee  at  a  vantage,  as  thou  hadst  me 
to-day ;  but  it  shall  never  be  said,  in  court,  or  among  good 
knights,  that  Sir  Tristram  did  slay  any  knight  that  was 
weaponless :  therefore  take  thou  thy  sword,  and  let  us  light 
this  battle  to  the  end."  Then  spoke  Sir  Palamedes  to  Sir 
Tristram  :  "  I  have  no  wish  to  fight  this  battle  any  more.  The 
offence  that  I  have  done  unto  you  is  not  so  great  but  that,  if  it 
please  you,  we  may  be  friends.  All  that  I  have  offended  is  for 
the  love  of  the  queen,  La  Belle  Isoude,  and  I  dare  maintain 
that  she  is  peerless  among  ladies ;  and  for  that  offence  ye  have 
given  me  many  grievous  and  sad  strokes,  and  some  I  have 
given  you  again.  Wherefore  I  require  you,  my  lord  Sir 
Tristram,  forgive  me  all  that  I  have  offended  you,  and  this 
day  have  me  unto  the  next  church  ;  and  first  I  will  be  clean 
confessed,  and  after  that  see  you  that  I  be  truly  baptized,  and 
then  we  will  ride  together  unto  the  court  of  my  lord,  King 
Arthur,  so  that  we  may  be  there  at  the  feast  of  Pentecost." 
"Now  take  your  horse,"  said  Sir  Tristram,  "  and  as  you  have 
said,  so  shall  it  be  done."  So  they  took  their  horses,  and  Sir 
Galleron  rode  with  them.  When  they  came  to  the  church  of 
Carlisle,  the  bishop  commanded  to  fill  a  great  vessel  with  water ; 
and  when  he  had  hallowed  it,  he  then  confessed  Sir  Palamedes 


134  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

clean,  and  christened  him  ;  and  Sir  Tristram  and  Sir  Galleron 
were  his  godfathers.  Then  soon  after  they  departed,  and  rode 
toward  Camelot,  where  the  noble  King  Arthur  and  Queen 
Guenever  were  keeping  a  court  royal.  And  the  king  and  all 
the  court  were  glad  that  Sir  Palamedes  was  christened.  Then 
Sir  Tristram  returned  again  to  La  Joyeuse  Garde,  and  Sir 
Palamedes  went  his  way 

Not  long  after  these  events  Sir  Gawain  returned  from 
Brittany,  and  related  to  King  Arthur  the  adventure  which 
befell  him  in  the  forest  of  Breciliande,  —  how  Merlin  had  there 
spoken  to  him,  and  enjoined  him  to  charge  the  king  to  go 
without  delay  upon  the  quest  of  the  Holy  Greal.  While  King 
Arthur  deliberated,  Tristram  determined  to  enter  upon  the 
quest,  and  the  more  readily,  as  it  was  well  known  to  him  that 
this  holy  adventure  would,  if  achieved,  procure  him  the  pardon 
of  all  his  sins.  He  immediately  departed  for  the  kingdom  of 
Brittany,  hoping  there  to  obtain  from  Merlin  counsel  as  to  the 
proper  course  to  pursue  to  insure  success. 

On  arriving  in  Brittany  Tristram  found  King  Hoel  engaged 
in  a  war  with  a  rebellious  vassal,  and  hard  pressed  by  his 
enemy.  His  best  knights  had  fallen  in  a  late  battle,  and  he 
knew  not  where  to  turn  for  assistance.  Tristram  volunteered 
his  aid.  It  was  accepted ;  and  the  army  of  Hoel,  led  by  Tris 
tram,  and  inspired  by  his  example,  gained  a  complete  victory. 
The  king,  penetrated  by  the  most  lively  sentiments  of  gratitude, 
and  having  informed  himself  of  Tristram's  birth,  offered  him 
his  daughter  in  marriage.  The  princess  was  beautiful  and  ac 
complished,  and  bore  the  same  name  with  the  Queen  of  Corn 
wall  ;  but  this  one  is  designated  by  the  Romancers  as  Isoude 
of  the  White  Hands,  to  distinguish  her  from  Isoude  the  Fair. 

How  can  we  describe  the  conflict  that  agitated  the  heart  of 
Tristram  ?  He  adored  the  first  Isoude,  but  his  love  for  her 
was  hopeless,  and  not  unaccompanied  by  remorse.  Moreover, 
the  sacred  quest  on  which  he  had  now  entered  demanded  of 
him  perfect  purity  of  life.  It  seemed  as  if  a  happy  destiny 
had  provided  for  him,  in  the  charming  princess  Isoude  of  the 
White  Hands,  the  best  security  for  all  his  good  resolutions. 
This  last  reflection  determined  him.  They  were  married,  and 


STORY    OF    SIR    TRISTRAM    OF    LYONESSE.  135 

passed  some  months  in  tranquil  happiness  at  the  court  of  King 
Hoel.  The  pleasure  which  Tristram  felt  in  his  wife's  society 
increased  day  by  day.  An  inward  grace  seemed  to  stir  within 
him  from  the  moment  when  he  took  the  oath  to  go  on  the  quest 
of  the  Holy  Greal ;  it  seemed  even  to  triumph  over  the  power 
of  the  magic  love-potion. 

The  war,  which  had  been  quelled  for  a  time,  now  burst  out 
anew.  Tristram,  as  usual,  was  foremost  in  every  danger.  The 
enemy  was  worsted  in  successive  conflicts,  and  at  last  shut 
himself  up  in  his  principal  city.  Tristram  led  on  the  attack 
of  the  city.  As  he  mounted  a  ladder  to  scale  the  walls,  he  was 
struck  on  the  head  by  a  fragment  of  rock,  which  the  besieged 
threw  down  upon  him.  It  bore  him  to  the  ground,  where  he 
lay  insensible. 

As  soon  as  he  recovered  consciousness,  he  demanded  to  be 
carried  to  his  wife.  The  princess,  skilled  in  the  art  of  surgery, 
would  not  suffer  any  one  but  herself  to  touch  her  beloved  hus 
band.  Her  fair  hands  bound  up  his  wounds;  Tristram  kissed 
them  with  gratitude,  which  began  to  grow  into  love.  At  first 
the  devoted  cares  of  Isoude  seemed  to  meet  with  great  success ; 
but  after  awhile  these  flattering  appearances  vanished,  and,  in 
spite  of  all  her  care,  the  malady  grew  more  serious  day  by  day. 

In  this  perplexity,  an  old  squire  of  Tristram's  reminded  his 
master  that  the  princess  of  Ireland,  afterward  queen  of  Corn 
wall,  had  once  cured  him  under  circumstances  quite  as  discour 
aging.  He  called  Isoude  of  the  White  Hands  to  him,  told  her 
of  his  former  cure,  added  that  he  believed  that  the  Queen 
Isoude  could  heal  him,  and  that  he  felt  sure  that  she  would  come 
to  his  relief  if  sent  for. 

Isoude  of  the  White  Hands  consented  that  Gesnes,  a  trusty 
man  and  skilful  navigator,  should  be  sent  to  Cornwall.  Tris 
tram  called  him,  and,  giving  him  a  ring,  "  Take  this,"  he  said, 
"  to  the  Queen  of  Cornwall.  Tell  her  that  Tristram,  near  to 
death,  demands  her  aid.  If  you  succeed  in  bringing  her  with 
you,  place  white  sails  to  your  vessel  on  your  return,  that  we 
may  know  of  your  success  when  the  vessel  first  heaves  in  sight. 
But  if  Queen  Isoude  refuses,  put  on  black  sails;  they  will  be 
the  presage  of  rny  impending  death." 


136  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

Gesnes  performed  his  mission  successfully.  King  Mark  hap- 
pened  to  be  absent  from  his  capital,  and  the  queen  readily  con 
sented  to  return  with  the  bark  to  Brittany.  Gesnes  clothed 
his  vessel  in  the  whitest  of  sails,  and  sped  his  way  back  to 
Brittany. 

Meantime  the  wound  of  Tristram  grew  more  desperate  day 
by  day.  His  strength,  quite  prostrated,  no  longer  permitted 
him  to  be  carried  to  the  seaside  daily,  as  had  been  his  custom 
from  the  first  moment  when  it  was  possible  for  the  bark  to  be 
on  the  way  homeward.  He  called  a  young  damsel,  and  gave 
her  in  charge  to  keep  watch  in  the  direction  of  Cornwall,  and 
to  come  and  tell  him  the  color  of  the  sails  of  the  first  vessel 
she  should  see  approaching. 

When  Isoude  of  the  White  Hands  consented  that  the  queen 
of  Cornwall  should  be  sent  for,  she  had  not  known  all  the  rea 
sons  which  she  had  for  fearing  the  influence  which  renewed 
intercourse  with  that  princess  might  have  on  her  own  happi 
ness.  She  had  now  learned  more,  and  felt  the  danger  more 
keenly.  She  thought,  if  she  could  only  keep  the  knowledge  of 
the  queen's  arrival  from  her  husband,  she  might  employ  in  his 
service  any  resources  which  her  skill  could  supply,  and  still 
avert  the  dangers  which  she  apprehended.  When  the  vessel 
was  seen  approaching,  with  its  white  sails  sparkling  in  the  sun, 
the  damsel,  by  command  of  her  mistress,  carried  word  to  Tris 
tram  that  the  sails  were  black. 

Tristram,  penetrated  with  inexpressible  grief,  breathed  a 
profound  sigh,  turned  away  his  face,  and  said,  "  Alas,  my  be 
loved  !  we  shall  never  see  one  another  again  ! "  Then  he  com 
mended  himself  to  God,  and  breathed  his  last. 

The  death  of  Tristram  was  the  first  intelligence  which  the 
queen  of  Cornwall  heard  on  landing.  She  was  conducted  almost 
senseless  into  the  chamber  of  Tristram,  and  expired  holding 
him  in  her  arms. 

Tristram,  before  his  death,  had  requested  that  his  body  should 
be  sent  to  Cornwall,  and  that  his  sword,  with  a  letter  he  had 
written,  should  be  delivered  to  King  Mark.  The  remains  of 
Tristram  and  Isoude  were  embarked  in  a  vessel,  along  with  the 
sword,  which  was  presented  to  the  king  of  Cornwall.  He  was 


STORY    OF    SIR    TRISTRAM    OF    LYONESSE.  137 

melted  with  tenderness  when  he  saw  the  weapon  which  slew 
Moraunt  of  Ireland,  —  which  had  so  often  saved  his  life,  and 
redeemed  the  honor  of  his  kingdom.  In  the  letter  Tristram 
begged  pardon  of  his  uncle,  and  related  the  story  of  the  amor 
ous  draught.  v 

Mark  ordered  the  lovers  to  be  buried  in  his  own  chapel. 
From  the  tomb  of  Tristram  there  sprung  a  vine,  which  went 
along  the  walls,  and  descended  into  the  grave  of  the  queen. 
It  was  cut  down  three  times,  but  each  time  sprung  up  again 
more  vigorous  than  before,  and  this  wonderful  plant  has  ever 
since  shaded  the  tombs  of  Tristram  and  Isoude. 


Spenser  introduces  Sir  Tristram  in  his  Faery  Queene.  In 
Book  VI.,  Canto  ii.,  Sir  Calidore  encounters  in  the  forest  a 
young  hunter,  whom  he  thus  describes  :  — 

"  Him  steadfastly  he  marked,  and  saw  to  be 

A  goodly  youth  of  amiable  grace, 

Yet  but  a  slender  slip,  that  scarce  did  see 

Yet  seventeen  yeares ;  but  tall  and  faire  of  face, 

That  sure  he  deemed  him  borne  of  noble  race. 

All  in  a  woodman's  jacket  he  was  clad 

Of  Lincoln  greene,  belayed  with  silver  lace ; 

And  on  his  head  an  hood  with  aglets  *  sprad, 
And  by  his  side  his  hunter's  home  he  hanging  had. 

"Buskins  he  wore  of  costliest  cordawayne, 
Pinckt  upon  gold,  and  paled  part  per  part,f 
As  then  the  guize  was  for  each  gentle  swayne, 
In  his  right  hand  he  held  a  trembling  dart, 
Whose  fellow  he  before  had  sent  apart ; 
And  in  his  left  he  held  a  sharp  bore-speare, 
With  which  he  wont  to  launch  the  salvage  heart 
Of  many  a  lyon,  and  of  many  a  beare, 
That  first  unto  his  hand  in  chase  did  happen  neare." 

*  Aglets,  points  or  tags. 

f  Pinckt  upon  gold,  etc.,  adorned  with  golden  points,  or  eyelets,  and  regularly 
intersected  with  stripes.  Paled  (in  heraldry),  striped. 


138 


KING    ARTHUR   AND   HIS   KNIGHTS. 


Tristram  is  often  alluded  to  by  the  Romancers  as  the  great 
authority  and  model  in  all  matters  relating  to  the  chase.  In 
the  Faery  Queerie,  Tristram,  in  answer  to  the  inquiries  of  Sir 
Calidore,  informs  him  of  his  name  and  parentage,  and 
concludes  :  — 

"  All  which  my  days  I  have  not  lewdly  spent, 
Nor  spilt  the  blossom  of  my  tender  years 
In  idlesse  ;  but,  as  was  convenient, 
Have  trained  been  with  many  noble  feres 
In  gentle  thewes,  and  such  like  seemly  leers  ;  * 
'Mongst  which  my  most  delight  hath  always  been 
To  hunt  the  salvage  chace,  amongst  my  peers, 
Of  all  that  rangeth  in  the  forest  green 
Of  which  none  is  to  me  unknown  that  yet  was  seen. 

"Ne  is  there  hawk  which  mantleth  on  her  perch, 
Whether  high  towering  or  accosting  low, 
But  I  the  measure  of  her  flight  do  search, 
And  all  her  prey,  and  all  her  diet  know. 
Such  be  our  joys,  which  in  these  forests  grow." 

*  Feres,  companions  ;  thewes,  labors  ;  leers,  learning. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


THE    STORY   OF    PERCEVAL. 


Sir  Percivale, 


Whom  Arthur  and  his  knighthood  called  the  Pure." 

TENNYSON. 

THE  father  and  two  elder  brothers  of  Perceval  had  fallen 
in  battle  or  tournaments,  and  hence,  as  the  last  hope  of 
his  family,  his  mother  retired  with  him  into  a  solitary  region, 
where  he  was  brought  up  in  total  ignorance  of  arms  and  chiv 
alry.  He  was  allowed  no  weapon  but  "  a  lyttel  Scots  spere," 
which  was  the  only  thing  of  all  "  her  lordes  faire  gere  "  that 
his  mother  carried  to  the  wood  with  her.  In  the  use  of  this 
he  became  so  skilful  that  he  could  kill  with  it  not  only  the  ani 
mals  of  the  chase  for  her  table,  but  even  birds  on  the  wing. 
At  length,  however,  Perceval  was  roused  to  a  desire  of  mili 
tary  renown  by  seeing  in  the  forest  five  knights  who  were  in 
complete  armor.  He  said  to  his  mother,  "Mother,  what  are 
those  yonder  ?  "  "  They  are  angels,  my  son,"  said  she.  "  By  my 
faith,  I  will  go  and  become  an  angel  with  them."  And  Perce 
val  went  to  the  road  and  met  them.  "  Tell  me,  good  lad,"  said 

139 


140  KING    ARTHUR    AND   HIS    KNIGHTS. 

one  of  them,  "  sawest  thou  a  knight  pass  this  way  either  to-day 
or  yesterday?"  "I  know  not,"  said  he,  "what  a  knight  is." 
"  Such  an  one  as  I  am,"  said  the  knight.  "  If  thou  wilt  tell 
me  what  I  ask  thee,  I  will  tell  thee  what  thou  askest  me." 
"  Gladly  will  I  do  so,"  said  Sir  Owain,  for  that  was  the  knight's 
name.  "What  is  this?"  demanded  Perceval,  touching  .the 
saddle.  "It  is  a  saddle,"  said  Owain.  Then  he  asked 
about  all  the  accoutrements  which  he  saw  upon  the  men  and 
the  horses,  and  about  the  arms,  and  what  they  were  for,  and 
how  they  were  used.  And  Sir  Owain  showed  him  all  those 
things  fully.  And  Perceval  in  return  gave  him  such  informa 
tion  as  he  had. 

Then  Perceval  returned  to  his  mother,  and  said  to  her, 
"Mother,  those  were  not  angels,  but  honorable  knights." 
Then  his  mother  swooned  away.  And  Perceval  went  to  the 
place  where  they  kept  the  horses  that  carried  firewood  and 
provisions  for  the  castle,  and  he  took  a  bony,  piebald  horse, 
which  seemed  to  him  the  strongest  of  them.  And  he  pressed 
a  pack  into  the  form  of  a  saddle,  and  with  twisted  twigs  he 
imitated  the  trappings  which  he  had  seen  upon  the  horses. 
When  he  came  again  to  his  mother  the  countess  had  recovered 
from  her  swoon.  "  My  son,"  said  she,  "  desirest  thou  to  ride 
forth  ?  "  "  Yes,  with  thy  leave,"  said  he.  "  Go  forward  then," 
she  said,  "  to  the  court  of  Arthur,  where  there  are  the  best  and 
the  noblest  and  the  most  bountiful  of  men,  and  tell  him  thou 
art  Perceval,  the  son  of  Pelenore,  and  ask  of  him  to  bestow 
knighthood  on  thee.  And  whenever  thou  seest  a  church, 
repeat  there  thy  pater-noster ;  and  if  thou  see  meat  and  drink, 
and  hast  need  of  them,  thou  mayest  take  them.  If  thou  hear 
an  outcry  of  one  in  distress,  proceed  toward  it,  especially  if  it 
be  the  cry  of  a  woman,  and  render  her  what  service  thou  canst. 
If  thou  see  a  fair  jewel,  win  it,  for  thus  shalt  thou  acquire 
fame ;  yet  freely  give  it  to  another,  for  thus  thou  shalt  obtain 
praise.  If  thou  see  a  fair  woman,  pay  court  to  her,  for  thus 
thou  wilt  obtain  love." 

After  this  discourse  Perceval  mounted  the  horse,  and,  taking 
a  number  of  sharp-pointed  sticks  in  his  hand,  he  rode  forth. 
And  he  rode  far  in  the  woody  wilderness  without  food  or  drink. 


THE    STORY   OF   PERCEVAL.  141 

At  last  he  came  to  au  opening  in  the  wood,  where  he  saw  a 
tent,  and  as  he  thought  it  might  be  a  church  he  said  his  pater 
noster  to  it.  And  he  went  toward  it ;  and  the  door  of  the 
tent  was  open.  And  Perceval  dismounted  and  entered  the 
tent.  In  the  tent  he  foun$  a  maiden  sitting,  with  a  golden 
frontlet  on  her  forehead  and  a  gold  ring  on  her  hand.  And 
Perceval  said,  "Maiden,  I  salute  you,  for  my  mother  told  me 
whenever  I  met  a  lady  I  must  respectfully  salute  her."  Per 
ceiving  in  one  corner  of  the  tent  some  food,  two  flasks  full  of 
wine,  and  some  boar's  flesh  roasted,  he  said,  "My  mother  told 
me,  wherever  I  saw  meat  and  drink  to  take  it."  And  he  ate 
greedily,  for  he  was  very  hungry.  "  Sir,  thou  hadst  best  go 
quickly  from  here,  for  fear  that  my  friends  should  come,  and 
evil  should  befall  you."  But  Perceval  said,  "  My  mother  told 
me  wheresoever  I  saw  a  fair  jewel  to  take  it,"  and  he  took  the 
gold  ring  from  her  finger,  and  put  it  on  his  own ;  and  he  gave 
the  maiden  his  own  ring  in  exchange  for  hers  ;  then  he  mounted 
his  horse  and  rode  away. 

Perceval  journeyed  on  till  he  arrived  at  Arthur's  court. 
And  it  so  happened  that  just  at  that  time  an  uncourteous 
knight  had  offered  Queen  Guenever  a  gross  insult.  For  when 
her  page  was  serving  the  queen  with  a  golden  goblet,  this 
knight  struck  the  arm  of  the  page  and  dashed  the  wine  in  the 
queen's  face  and  over  her  stomacher.  Then  he  said,  "If  any 
have  boldness  to  avenge  this  insult  to  Guenever,  let  him  follow 
me  to  the  meadow."  So  the  knigh't  took  his  horse  and  rode 
to  the  meadow,  carrying  away  the  golden  goblet.  And  all  the 
household  hung  down  their  heads,  and  no  one  offered  to  follow 
the  knight  to  take  vengeance  upon  him.  For  it  seemed  to 
them  that  no  one  would  have  ventured  on  so  daring  an  outrage 
unless  he  possessed  such  powers,  through  magic  or  charms, 
that  none  could  be  able  to  punish  him.  Just  then,  behold, 
Perceval  entered  the  hall  upon  the  bony,  piebald  horse,  with 
his  uncouth  trappings.  In  the  centre  of  the  hall  stood  Kay 
the  seneschal.  "  Tell  me,  tall  man,"  said  Perceval,  "  is  that 
Arthur  yonder?"  "What  wouldst  thou  with  Arthur?"  asked 
Kay.  "My  mother  told  me  to  go  to  Arthur  and  receive 
knighthood  from  him."  "By  my  faith,"  said  he,  "thou  art  all 


142  KING    ARTHUR   AND   HIS    KNIGHTS. 

too  meanly  equipped  with  horse  and  with  arms."  Then  all  the 
household  began  to  jeer  and  laugh  at  him.  But  there  was  a 
certain  damsel  who  had  been  a  whole  year  at  Arthur's  court, 
and  had  never  been  known  to  smile.  And  the  king's  fool* 
had  said  that  this  damsel  would  not  smile  till  she  had  seen  him 
who  would  be  the  flower  of  chivalry.  Now  this  damsel  came 
up  to  Perceval  and  told  him,  smiling,  that,  if  he  lived,  he 
would  be  one  of  the  bravest  and  best  of  knights.  "  Truly," 
said  Kay,  "thou  art  ill  taught  to  remain  a  year  at  Arthur's 
court,  with  choice  of  society,  and  smile  on  no  one,  and  now 
before  the  face  of  Arthur  and  all  his  knights  to  call  such  a  man 
as  this  the  flower  of  knighthood ; "  and  he  gave  her  a  box  on 
the  ear,  that  she  fell  senseless  to  the  ground.  Then  said  Kay 
to  Perceval,  "  Go  after  the  knight  who  went  hence  to  the 
meadow,  overthrow  him  and  recover  the  golden  goblet,  and 
possess  thyself  of  his  horse  and  arms,  and  thou  shalt  have 
knighthood."  "I  will  do  so,  tall  man,"  said  Perceval.  So  he 
turned  his  horse's  head  toward  the  meadow.  And  when  he 
came  there,  the  knight  was  riding  up  and  down,  proud  of  his 
strength  and  valor  and  noble  mien.  "  Tell  me,"  said  the 
knight,  "  didst  thou  see  any  one  coming  after  me  from  the 
court?"  "The  tall  man  that  was  there,"  said  Perceval,  "told 
me  to  come  and  overthrow  thee,  and  to  take  from  thee  the 
goblet  and  thy  horse  and  armor  for  myself."  "  Silence !  "  said 
the  knight ;  "  go  back  to  the  court,  and  tell  Arthur  either  to 
come  himself,  or  to  send  some  other  to  fight  with  me ;  and 
unless  he  do  so  quickly,  I  will  not  wait  for  him."  "  By  my 
faith,"  said  Perceval,  "choose  thou  whether  it  shall  be  will 
ingly  or  unwillingly,  for  I  will  have  the  horse  and  the  arms 
and  the  goblet."  Upon  this  the  knight  ran  at  him  furiously, 
and  struck  him  a  violent  blow  with  the  shaft  of  his  spear, 
between  the  neck  and  the  shoulder.  "  Ha,  ha,  lad  !  "  said  Per 
ceval,  "  rny  mother's  servants  were  not  used  to  play  with  me 

*  A  fool  was  a  common  appendage  of  the  courts  of  those  days  when  this  ro 
mance  was  written.  A  fool  was  the  ornament  held  in  next  estimation  to  a  dwarf. 
He  wore  a  white  dress  with  a  yellow  bonnet,  and  carried  a  bell  or  bawble  in  his 
hand.  Though  called  a  fool,  his  words  were  often  weighed  and  remembered  as 
if  there  were  a  sort  of  oracular  meaning  in  them. 


THE    STORY    OF    PERCEVAL.  143 

in  tliis  wise ;  so  thus  will  I  play  with  thee."  And  he  threw  at 
him  one  of  his  sharp-pointed  sticks,  and  it  struck  him  in  the 
eye,  and  came  out  at  the  back  of  his  head,  so  that  he  fell  down 
lifeless. 

But  at  the  court  of  Arthur^  Sir  Owain  said  to  Kay,  "Verily, 
thou  wert  ill  advised  when  thou  didst  send  that  madman  after 
the  knight.  For  one  of  two  things  must  befall  him.  He  must 
either  be  overthrown  or  slain.  If  he  is  overthrown  by  the  knight, 
he  will  be  counted  by  him  to  be  an  honorable  person  of  the  court, 
and  an  eternal  disgrace  will  it  be  to  Arthur  and  his  warriors. 
And  if  he  is  slain,  the  disgrace  will  be  the  same,  and  moreover 
his  sin  will  be  upon  him;  therefore  will  I  go  to  see  what  has 
befallen  him."  So  Sir  Owain  went  to  the  meadow,  and  he  found 
Perceval  dragging  the  man  about.  "What  art  thou  doing 
thus?"  said  Sir  Owain.  "This  iron  coat,"  said  Perceval,  "  will 
never  come  from  off  him ;  not  by  my  efforts,  at  any  rate." 
And  Sir  Owain  unfastened  his  armor  and  his  clothes.  "  Here, 
my  good  soul,"  said  he,  "is  a  horse  and  armor  better  than 
thine.  Take  them  joyfully,  and  come  with  me  to  Arthur  to 
receive  the  order  of  knighthood,  for  thou  dost  merit  it."  And 
Owain  helped  Perceval  to  put  it  on,  and  taught  him  how  to 
put  his  foot  in  the  stirrup,  and  use  the  spur;  for  Perceval  had 
never  used  stirrup  nor  spur,  but  rode  without  saddle,  and 
urged  on  his  horse  with  a  stick.  Then  Owain  would  have  had 
him  return  to  the  court  to  receive  the  praise  that  was  his  due ; 
but  Perceval  said,  "  I  will  not  come  to  the  court  till  I  have 
encountered  the  tall  man  that  is  there,  to  revenge  the  injury 
he  did  to  the  maiden.  But  take  thou  the  goblet  to  Queen 
Guenever,  and  tell  King  Arthur  that,  wherever  I  am,  I  will  be 
his  vassal,  and  will  do  him  what  profit  and  service  I  can."  And 
Sir  Owain  went  back  to  the  court,  and  related  all  these  things 
to  Arthur  and  Guenever,  and  to  all  the  household. 

And  Perceval  rode  forward.  And  as  he  proceeded,  behold 
a  knight  met  him.  "  Whence  comest  thou  ?  "  said  the  knight. 
"  I  come  from  Arthur's  court,"  said  Perceval.  "  Art  thou  one 
of  his  men?"  asked  he.  "Yes,  by  my  faith,"  he  answered. 
"  A  good  service,  truly,  is  that  of  Arthur."  "  Wherefore  say- 
est  thou  so?"  said  Perceval.  "I  will  tell  thee,"  said  he.  "I 


144  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

have  always  been  Arthur's  enemy,  and  all  such  of  his  men  as 
I  have  ever  encountered  I  have  slain."  And  without  further 
parlance  they  fought,  and  it  was  not  long  before  Perceval 
brought  him  to  the  ground,  over  his  horse's  crupper.  Then 
the  knight  besought  his  mercy.  "Mercy  thou  shalt  have," 
said  Perceval,  "if  thou  wilt  make  oath  to  me  that  thou  wilt 
go  to  Arthur's  court  and  tell  him  that  it  was  I  that  overthrew 
thee,  for  the  honor  of  his  service ;  and  say  that  I  will  never 
come  to  the  court  until  I  have  avenged  the  insult  offered  to  the 
maiden."  The  knight  pledged  him  his  faith  of  this,  and  pro 
ceeded  to  the  court  of  Arthur  and  said  as  he  had  promised, 
and  conveyed  the  threat  to  Sir  Kay. 

And  Perceval  rode  forward.  And  within  that  week  he 
encountered  sixteen  knights,  and  overthrew  them  all  shame 
fully.  And  they  all  went  to  Arthur's  court,  taking  with  them 
the  same  message  which  the  first  knight  had  conveyed  from 
Perceval,  and  the  same  threat  which  he  had  sent  to  Sir  Kay. 
And  thereupon  Sir  Kay  was  reproved  by  Arthur;  and  Sir 
Kay  was  greatly  grieved  thereat. 

And  Perceval  rode  forward.  And  he  came  to  a  lake,  on  the 
side  of  which  was  a  fair  castle,  and  on  the  border  of  the  lake 
he  saw  a  hoary-headed  man  sitting  upon  a  velvet  cushion,  and 
his  attendants  were  fishing  in  the  lake.  When  the  hoary- 
headed  man  beheld  Perceval  approaching,  he  arose  and  went 
into  the  castle.  Perceval  rode  to  the  castle,  and  the  door  was 
open,  and  he  entered  the  hall.  And  the  hoary-headed  man 
received  Perceval  courteously,  and  asked  him  to  sit  by  him  on 
the  cushion.  When  it  was  time,  the  tables  were  set,  and  they 
went  to  meat.  And  when  they  had  finished  their  meat,  the 
hoary-headed  man  asked  Perceval  if  he  knew  how  'to  fight 
with  the  sword.  "I  know  not,"  said  Perceval,  "but  were  I  to 
be  taught,  doubtless  I  should."  "  Whoever  can  play  well  with 
the  cudgel  and  shield  will  also  be  able  to  fight  with  a  sword." 
And  the  man  had  two  sons ;  the  one  had  yellow  hair  and  the 
other  auburn.  "Arise,  youths,"  said  the  old  man,  "and  play 
with  the  cudgel  and  the  shield."  And  so  did  they.  "  Tell 
me,  my  son,"  said  the  man,  "which  of  the  youths  thinkest 
thou  plays  best ? "  "I  think,"  said  Perceval,  " that  the  yellow- 


THE    STORY   OF   PERCEVAL.  145 

haired  youth  could  draw  blood  if  he  chose."  "Arise  thou, 
then,  and  take  the  cudgel  and  the  shield  from  the  hand  of  the 
youth  with  the  auburn  hair,  and  draw  blood  from  the  yellow- 
haired  youth  if  thou  canst."  So  Perceval  arose,  and  he  lifted 
up  his  arm,  and  struck  hirn  such  a  mighty  blow  that  he  cut 
his  forehead  open  from  one  side  to  the  other.  "All,  my  life," 
said  the  old  man,  "  come,  now,  and  sit  down,  for  thou  wilt 
become  the  best  fighter  with  the  sword  of  any  in  this  island ; 
and  I  am  thy  uncle,  thy  mother's  brother;  I  am  called  King 
Pecheur.*  Thou  shalt  remain  with  me  a  space,  in  order  to 
learn  the  manners  and  customs  of  different  countries,  and 
courtesy  and  noble  bearing.  And  this  do  thou  remember :  if 
thou  seest  aught  to  cause  thy  wonder,  ask  not  the  meaning  of 
it ;  if  no  one  has  the  courtesy  to  inform  thee,  the  reproach 
will  not  fall  upon  thee,  but  upon  me  that  am  thy  teacher." 
While  Perceval  and  his  uncle  discoursed  together,  Perceval 
beheld  two  youths  enter  the  hall,  bearing  a  golden  cup  and  a 
spear  of  mighty  size,  with  blood  dropping  from  its  point  to 
the  ground.  And  when  all  the  company  saw  this,  they  began 
to  weep  and  lament.  But  for  all  that,  the  man  did  not  break 
off  his  discourse  with  Perceval.  And  as  he  did  not  tell  him 
the  meaning  of  what  he  saw,  he  forbore  to  ask  him  concerning 
it.  Now  the  cup  that  Perceval  saw  was  the  Sangreal,  and  the 
spear  the  sacred  spear  ;  and  afterwards  King  Pecheur  removed 
with  those  sacred  relics  into  a  far  country. 

One  evening  Perceval  entered  a  valley,  and  came  to  a  her 
mit's  cell ;  and  the  hermit  welcomed  him  gladly,  and  there  he 
spent  the  night.  And  in  the  morning  he  arose,  and  when  he 
went  forth,  behold !  a  shower  of  snow  had  fallen  in  the  night, 
and  a  hawk  had  killed  a  wild-fowl  in  front  of  the  cell.  And 
the  noise  of  the  horse  had  scared  the  hawk  away,  and  a  raven 
alighted  on  the  bird.  And  Perceval  stood  and  compared  the 
blackness  of  the  raven  and  the  whiteness  of  the  snow  and  the 
redness  of  the  blood  to  the  hair  of  the  lady  that  best  he  loved, 
which  was  blacker  than  jet,  and  to  her  skin,  which  was  whiter 

*  The  word  means  both  jfoAer  and  sinner. 


146  KING    ARTHUR    AND   HIS    KNIGHTS. 

than  the  snow,  and  to  the  two  red  spots  upon  her  cheeks, 
which  were  redder  than  the  blood  upon  the  snow. 

Now  Arthur  and  his  household  were  in  search  of  Perceval, 
and  by  chance  they  came  that  way.  "  Know  ye,"  said  Arthur, 
"who  is  the  knight  with  the  long  spear  that  stands  by  the  brook 
up  yonder?  "  "  Lord,"  said  one  of  them,  "  I  will  go  and  learn 
who  he  is."  So  the  youth  came  to  the  place  where  Perceval 
was,  and  asked  him  what  he  did  thus,  and  who  he  was.  But 
Perceval  was  so  intent  upon  his  thought  that  he  gave  him  no 
answer.  Then  the  youth  thrust  at  Perceval  with  his  lance  ;  and 
Perceval  turned  upon  him  anfl  struck  him  to  the  ground.  And 
when  the  youth  returned  to  the  king,  and  told  how  rudely  he 
he  had  been  treated,  Sir  Kay  said,  "  I  will  go  myself."  And 
when  he  greeted  Perceval,  and  got  no  answer,  he  spoke  to  him 
rudely  and  angrily.  And  Perceval  thrust  at  him  with  his  lance, 
and  cast  him  down  so  that  he  broke  his  arm  and  his  shoulder- 
blade.  And  while  he  lay  thus  stunned,  his  horse  returned  back 
at  a  wild  and  prancing  pace. 

Then  said  Sir  Gawain,  surnamed  the  Golden-Tongued,  be 
cause  he  was  the  most  courteous  knight  in  Arthur's  court :  "  It 
is  not  fitting  that  any  should  disturb  an  honorable  knight  from 
his  thought  unadvisedly;  for  either  he  is  pondering  some  dam 
age  that  he  has  sustained,  or  he  is  thinking  of  the  lady  he  best 
loves.  If  it  seem  well  to  thee,  lord,  I  will  go  and  see  if  this 
knight  has  changed  from  his  thought,  and  if  he  has,  I  will  ask 
him  courteously  to  come  and  visit  thee." 

And  Perceval  was  resting  on  the  shaft  of  his  spear,  ponder 
ing  the  same  thought,  and  Sir  Gawain  came  to  him,  and  said, 
"  If  I  thought  it  would  be  as  agreeable  to  thee  as  it  would 
be  to  me,  I  would  converse  with  thee.  I  have  also  a  message 
from  Arthur  unto  thee,  to  pray  thee  to  come  and  visit  him. 
And  two  men  have  been  before  on  this  errand."  "That  is 
true,"  said  Perceval,  "and  uncourteously  they  came.  They 
attacked  me,  and  I  was  annoyed  thereat."  Then  he  told  him 
the  thought  that  occupied  his  mind,  and  Gawain  said,  "This 
was  not  an  ungentle  thought,  and  I  should  marvel  if  it  were 
pleasant  for  thee  to  be  drawn  from  it."  Then  said  Perceval, 
"Tell  me,  is  Sir  Kay  in  Arthur's  court?"  "He  is,"  said  Ga- 


THE    STORY    OF    PERCEVAL.  147 

wain ;  "  and  truly  he  is  the  knight  who  fought  with  thee  last." 
"  Verily,"  said  Perceval,  "  I  am  not  sorry  to  have  thus  avenged 
the  insult  to  the  smiling  maiden."  Then  Perceval  told  him  his 
name,  and  said  v"  Who  art  thou?"  And  he  replied,"!  arn 
Gavvain."  "  I  am  right  glad  to  meet  thee,"  said  Perceval,  "  for 
I  have  everywhere  heard  of  thy  prowess  and  uprightness ;  and 
I  solicit  thy  fellowship."  "  Thou  shalt  have  it,  by  my  faith  ; 
and  grant  me  thine,"  said  he.  "  Gladly  will  I  do  so,"  answered 
Perceval. 

So  they  went  together  to  Arthur,  and  saluted  him.  "Be 
hold,  lord,"  said  Gawain,  "him  whom  thou  hast  sought  so 
long."  "Welcome  unto  thee,  chieftain,"  said  Arthur.  And 
hereupon  there  came  the  queen  and  her  handmaidens,  and  Per 
ceval  saluted  them.  And  they  were  rejoiced  to  see  him,  and 
bade  him  welcome.  And  Arthur  did  him  great  honor  and 
respect,  and  they  returned  toward  Caerleon. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  QUEST  OF  THE  SANGREAL. 

" The  cup  itself  from  which  our  Lord 

Drank  at  the  last  sad  supper  with  His  own. 
This  from  the  blessed  land  of  Aromat, 
After  the  day  of  darkness,  when  the  dead 
Went  wandering  over  Moriah  —  the  good  saint, 
Arimathean  Joseph,  journeying,  brought 
To  Glastonbury,  where  the  winter  thorn 
Blossoms  at  Christmas,  mindful  of  our  Lord, 
And  there  awhile  abode;  and  if  a  man 
Could  touch  or  see  it,  he  was  healed  at  once, 
By  faith,  of  all  his  ills.    But  then  the  times 
Grew  to  such  evil  that  the  holy  cup 
Was  caught  away  to  Heaven,  and  disappeared." 

TENNYSON. 

THE  Sangreal  was  the  cup  from  which  our  Saviour  drank  at 
his  last  supper.    He  was  supposed  to  have  given  it  to  Joseph 
of    Arimathea,  who  carried   it  to  Europe,  together  with  the 
spear  with  which  the  soldier  pierced  the  Saviour's  side.     From 
generation  to  generation  one  of  the  descendants  of  Joseph  of 

Arimathea  had  been  devoted  to  the  guardianship  of  these  precious 
148 


THE  QUEST  OF  THE  SANGREAL.  149 

relics;  but  on  the  sole  condition  of  leading  a  life  of  purity  in 
thought,  word,  and  deed.  For  a  long  lime  the  Sangreal  was 
visible  to  all  pilgrims,  and  its  presence  conferred  blessings  upon 
the  land  in  which  it  was  preserved.  But  at  length  one  of  those 
holy  men  to  whom  its  guardianship  had  descended  so  far  for 
got  the  obligation  of  his  sacred  office  as  to  look  with  unhal 
lowed  eye  upon  a  young  female  pilgrim  whose  robe  \vas  acci 
dentally  loosened  as  she  knelt  before  him.  The  sacred  lance 
instantly  punished  his  frailty,  spontaneously  falling  upon  him, 
and  inflicting  a  deep  wound.  The  marvellous  wound  could  by 
no  means  be  healed,  and  the  guardian  of  the  Sangreal  was  ever 
after  called  "  Le  Roi  Pecheur,"  —  the  Sinner  King.  The  San 
greal  withdrew  its  visible  presence  from  the  crowds  who  came 
to  worship,  and  an  iron  age  succeeded  to  the  happiness  which 
its  presence  had  diffused  among  the  tribes  of  Britain. 

We  have  told  in  the  history  of  Merlin  how  that  great 
prophet  and  enchanter  sent  a  message  to  King  Arthur  by  Sir 
Gawain,  directing  him  to  undertake  the  recovery  of  the  San 
greal,  informing  him  at  the  same  time  that  the  knight  who 
should  accomplish  that  sacred  quest  was  already  born,  and  of  a 
suitable  age  to  enter  upon  it.  Sir  Gawain  delivered  his  mes 
sage,  and  the  king  was  anxiously  revolving  in  his  mind  how 
best  to  achieve  the  enterprise,  when,  at  the  vigil  of  Pentecost, 
all  the  fellowship  of  the  Round  Table  being  met  together  at 
Canielot,  as  they  sat  at  meat,  suddenly  there  was  heard  a  clap 
of  thunder,  and  then  a  bright  light  burst  forth,  and  every 
knight,  as  he  looked  on  his  fellow,  saw  him,  in  seeming,  fairer 
than  ever  before.  All  the  hall  was  filled  with  sweet  odors,  and 
every  knight  had  such  meat  and  drink  as  he  best  loved.  Then 
there  entered  into  the  hall  the  Holy  Greal,  covered  with  white 
samite,  so  that  none  could  see  it,  and  it  passed  through  the  hall 
suddenly  and  disappeared.  During  this  time  no  one  spoke  a 
word,  but  when  they  had  recovered  breath  to  speak,  King  Ar 
thur  said,  "Certainly  we  ought  greatly  to  thank  the  Lord  for 
what  he  hath  showed  us  this  day."  Then  Sir  Gawain  rose  up, 
and  made  a  vow  that  for  twelve  months  and  a  day  he  would 
seek  the  Sangreal,  and  not  return  till  he  had  seen  it,  if  so  he 
might  speed.  When  they  of  the  Round  Table  heard  Sir  Ga- 


150  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

wain  say  so,  they  arose,  the  most  part  of  them,  and  vowed  the 
same.  When  King  Arthur  heard  this  he  was  greatly  dis 
pleased,  for  he  knew  well  that  they  might  not  gainsay  their 
vows.  "Alas  !  "  said  he  to  Sir  Gawain,  "  you  have  nigh  slain 
me  with  the  vow  and  promise  that  ye  have  made,  for  ye  have 
bereft  me  of  the  fairest  fellowship  that  ever  was  seen  together 
in  any  realm  of  the  world  ;  for  when  they  shall  depart  hence, 
I  am  sure  that  all  shall  never  meet  more  in  this  world." 


SIR  GALAHAD. 

At  that  time  there  entered  the  hall  a  good  old  man,  and  with 
him  he  brought  a  young  knight,  and  these  words  he  said : 
"  Peace  be  with  you,  fair  lords."  Then  the  old  man  said  unto 
King  Arthur,  "  Sir,  I  bring  you  here  a  young  knight  that  is  of 
kings'  lineage,  and  of  the  kindred  of  Joseph  of  Arirnathea, 
being  the  son  of  Dame  Elaine,  the  daughter  of  King  Pelles, 
king  of  the  foreign  country."  Now  the  name  of  the  young 
knight  was  Sir  Galahad,  and  he  was  the  son  of  Sir  Launcelot 
du  Lac;  but  he  had  dwelt  with  his  mother,  at  the  court  of 
King  Pelles,  his  grandfather,  till  now  he  was  old  enough  to  bear 
arms,  and  his  mother  had  sent  him  in  the  charge  of  a  holy  hermit 
to  King  Arthur's  court.  Then  Sir  Launcelot  beheld  his  son, 
and  had  great  joy  of  him.  And  Sir  Bohort  told  his  fellows, 
"Upon  my  life,  this  young  knight  shall  come  to  great  wor 
ship."  The  noise  was  great  in  all  the  court,  so  that  it  came  to 
the  queen.  And  she  said,  "I  would  fain  see  him,  for  he  must 
needs  be  a  noble  knight,  for  so  is  his  father."  And  the  queen 
and  her  ladies  all  said  that  he  resembled  much  unto  his  father; 
and  he  was  seemly  and  demure  as  a  dove,  with  all  manner  of 
good  features,  that  in  the  whole  world  men  might  not  find  his 
match.  And  King  Arthur  said,  "  God  make  him  a  good  man, 
for  beauty  faileth  him  not,  as  any  that  liveth." 

Then  the  hermit  led  the  young  knight  to  the  Siege  Perilous ; 
and  he  lifted  up  the  cloth,  and  found  there  letters  that  said, 
"  This  is  the  seat  of  Sir  Galahad,  the  good  knight " ;  and  he 
made  him  sit  in  that  seat.  And  all  the  knights  of  the  Round 


THE    QUEST    OF    THE    SANGREAL.  151 

Table  marvelled  greatly  at  Sir  Galahad,  seeing  him  sit  securely 
in  that  seat,  and  said,  "  This  is  lie  by  whom  the  Sangreal  shall 
be  achieved,  for  there  never  sat  one  before  in  that  seat  without 
being  mischiev^ed." 

On  the  next  day  the  king  said,  "Now,  at  this  quest  of  the 
Sangreal  shall  all  ye  of  the  Round  Table  depart,  and  never 
shall  I  see  you  again  all  together ;  therefore  I  will  that  ye  all  re 
pair  to  the  meadow  of  Camelot,  for  to  joust  and  tourney  yet 
once  more  before  ye  depart."  But  all  the  meaning  of  the  king 
was  to  see  Sir  Galahad  proved.  So  then  were  they  all  assem 
bled  in  the  meadow.  Then  Sir  Galahad,  by  request  of  the  king 
and  queen,  put  on  his  harness  and  his  helm,  but  shield  would 
lie  take  none  for  any  prayer  of  the  king.  And  the  queen  was 
in  a  tower,  with  all  her  ladies,  to  behold  that  tournament. 
Then  Sir  Galahad  rode  into  the  midst  of  the  meadow;  and 
there  he  began  to  break  spears  marvellously,  so  that  all  men 
had  wonder  of  him,  for  he  surmounted  all  knights  that  encoun 
tered  with  him,  except  two,  Sir  Launcelot  and  Sir  Perceval. 
Then  the  king,  at  the  queen's  request,  made  him  to  alight,  and 
presented  him  to  the  queen  ;  and  she  said,  "  Never  two  men  re 
sembled  one  another  more  than  he  and  Sir  Launcelot,  and  there 
fore  it  is  no  marvel  that  he  is  like  him  in  prowess." 

Then  the  king  and  the  queen  went  to  the  minster,  and  the 
knights  followed  them.  And  after  the  service  was  done,  they 
put  on  their  helms  and  departed,  and  there  was  great  sorrow. 
They  rode  through  the  streets  of  Camelot,  and  there  was  weep 
ing  of  the  rich  and  poor;  and  the  king  turned  away,  and  might 
not  speak  for  weeping.  And  so  they  departed,  and  every  knight 
took  the  way  that  him  best  liked. 

Sir  Galahad  rode  forth  without  shield,  and  rode  four  days, 
and  found  no  adventure.  And  on  the  fourth  day  he  came  to  a 
white  abbey ;  and  there  he  was  received  with  great  reverence, 
and  led  to  a  chamber.  He  met  there  two  knights,  King  Bag- 
demagus  and  Sir  Uwaine,  and  they  made  of  him  great  solace. 
"Sirs,"  said  Sir  Galahad,  "what  adventure  brought  you 
hither?"  "  Sir,"  said  they,  "it  is  told  us  that  within  this  place 
is  a  shield,  which  no  man  may  bear  unless  he  be  worthy ;  and 


152  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

if  one  unworthy  should  attempt  to  bear  it,  it  shall  surely  do 
him  a  mischief."  Then  King  Bagdemagus  said,  "  I  fear  not  to 
bear  it,  and  that  shall  ye  see  to-morrow." 

So  on  the  morrow  they  arose,  and  heard  mass;  then  King 
Bagdemagus  asked  where  the  adventurous  shield  was.  Anon 
a  monk  led  him  behind  an  altar,  where  the  shield  hung,  as  white 
as  snow;  but  in  the  midst  there  was  a  red  cross.  Then  King 
Bagdemagus  took  the  shield,  and  bare  it  out  of  the  minster; 
and  he  said  to  Sir  Galahad,  "  If  it  please  you,  abide  here  till 
ye  know  how  I  shall  speed." 

Then  King  Bagdemagus  and  his  squire  rode  forth  ;  and  when 
they  had  ridden  a  mile  or  two,  they  saw  a  goodly  knight  come 
towards  them,  in  white  armor,  horse  and  all;  and  he  came  as 
fast  as  his  horse  might  run,  with  his  spear  in  the  rest ;  and  King 
Bagdemagus  directed  his  spear  against  him,  and  broke  it  upon 
the  white  knight,  but  the  other  struck  him  so  hard  that  he  broke 
the  mails,  and  thrust  him  through  the  right  shoulder,  for  the 
shield  covered  him  not,  and  so  he  bare  him  from  his  horse. 
Then  the  white  knight  turned  his  horse  and  rode  away. 

Then  the  squire  went  to  King  Bagdemagus,  and  asked  him 
whether  he  were  sore  wounded  or  not.  "  I  am  sore  wounded," 
said  he,  "and  full  hardly  shall  I  escape  death."  Then  the 
squire  set  him  on  his  horse,  and  brought  him  to  an  abbey ;  and 
there  he  was  taken  down  softly,  and  unarmed,  and  laid  in  a  bed, 
and  his  wound  was  looked  to,  for  he  lay  there  long,  and  hardly 
escaped  with  his  life.  And  the  squire  brought  the  shield  back 
to  the  abbey. 

The  next  day  Sir  Galahad  took  the  shield,  and  within  a  while 
he  came  to  the  hermitage,  where  he  met  the  white  knight,  and 
each  saluted  the  other  courteously.  "  Sir,"  said  Sir  Galahad, 
"  can  you  tell  me  the  marvel  of  the  shield  ?  "  "  Sir,"  said  the 
white  knight,  "  that  shield  belonged  of  old  to  the  gentle  knight, 
Joseph  of  Arimathea ;  and  when  he  came  to  die,  he  said, '  Never 
shall  man  bear  this  shield  about  his  neck  but  he  shall  repent  it, 
unto  the  time  that  Sir  Galahad,  the  good  knight,  bear  it,  the  last 
of  my  lineage,  the  which  shall  do  many  marvellous  deeds.'" 
And  then  the  white  knight  vanished  away. 


THE    QUEST   OF   THE    SANGREAL.  153 


SIK  GAWAIN. 

After  Sir  Gawain  departed,  he  rode  many  days,  both  toward 
and  forward,  and  at  lastvhe  came  to  the  abbey  where  Sir  Gala 
had  took  the  white  shield.  And  they  told  Sir  Gawain  of  the 
marvellous  adventure  that  Sir  Galahad  had  done.  "Truly," 
said  Sir  Gawain,  "  I  am  not  happy  that  I  took  not  the  way  that 
he  went,  for,  if  I  may  meet  with  him,  I  will  not  part  from  him 
lightly,  that  I  may  partake  with  him  all  the  marvellous  adven 
tures  which  he  shall  achieve."  "  Sir,"  said  one  of  the  monks, 
"  he  will  not  be  of  your  fellowship."  "  Why  ?  "  said  Sir  Ga 
wain.  "  Sir,"  said  he,  "  because  ye  be  sinful,  and  he  is  bliss 
ful."  Then  said  the  monk,  "  Sir  Gawain,  thou  must  do  penance 
for  thy  sins."  "Sir,  what  penance  shall  I  do?"  "  Such  as  I 
will  show,"  said  the  good  man.  "  Nay,"  said  Sir  Gawain,  "  I 
will  do  no  penance,  for  we  knights  adventurous  often  suffer 
great  woe  and  pain."  "  Well,"  said  the  good  man  ;  and  he  held 
his  peace.  And  Sir  Gawain  departed. 

Now  it  happened,  not  long  after  this,  that  Sir  Gawain  and 
Sir  Hector  rode  together,  and  they  came  to  a  castle  where  was 
a  great  tournament.  And  Sir  Gawain  and  Sir  Hector  joined 
themselves  to  the  party  that  seemed  the  weaker,  and  they  drove 
before  them  the  other  party.  Then  suddenly  came  into  the 
lists  a  knight,  bearing  a  white  shield  with  a  red  cross,  and  by 
adventure  he  came  by  Sir  Gawain,  and  he  smote  him  so  hard 
that  he  clave  his  helm  and  wounded  his  head,  so  that  Sir  Ga 
wain  fell  to  the  earth.  When  Sir  Hector  saw  that,  he  knew 
that  the  knight  with  the  white  shield  was  Sir  Galahad,  and  he 
thought  it  no  wisdom  to  abide  with  him,  and  also  for  natural 
love,  that  he  was  his  uncle.  Then  Sir  Galahad  retired  privily,  so 
that  none  knew  where  he  had  gone.  And  Sir  Hector  raised  up 
Sir  Gawain,  and  said,  "  Sir,  me  seemeth  your  quest  is  done." 
"  It  is  done,"  said  Sir  Gawain ;  "  I  shall  seek  no  further."  Then 
Gawain  was  borne  into  the  castle,  and  unarmed,  and  laid  in  a 
rich  bed,  and  a  leech  found  to  search  his  wound.  And  Sir 
Gawain  and  Sir  Hector  abode  together,  for  Sir  Hector  would 
not  away  until  Sir  Gawain  were  whole. 


154  KING    ARTHUR   AND   HIS    KNIGHTS. 

Now  Sir  Galahad,  after  that  the  white  knight  had  vanished 
away,  rode  till  he  came  to  a  waste  forest,  and  there  he  met 
with  Sir  Launcelot  and  Sir  Perceval,  but  they  knew  him  not, 
for  he  was  new  disguised.  Right  so,  Sir  Launcelot  his  father 
dressed  his  spear,  and  brake  it  upon  Sir  Galahad,  and  Sir 
Galahad  smote  him  so  again,  that  he  smote  down  horse  and 
man.  And  then  he  drew  his  sword,  and  dressed  him  to  Sir 
Perceval,  and  smote  him  so  on  the  helm  that  it  rove  to  the  coif 
of  steel,  and  had  not  the  sword  swerved  Sir  Perceval  had  been 
slain,  and  with  the  stroke  he  fell  out  of  his  saddle.  This  joust 
was  done  before  the  hermitage  where  a  recluse  dwelled.  And 
when  she  saw  Sir  Galahad  ride,  she  said,  "  God  be  with  thee, 
best  knight  of  the  world.  Ah,  certes,"  she  said  all  aloud, 
that  Launcelot  and  Perceval  might  hear  it,  "and  yonder  two 
knights  had  known  thee  as  well  as  I  do,  they  would  not  have 
encountered  with  thee."  When  Sir  Galahad  heard  her  say  so 
he  was  sore  adread  to  be  known  :  therewith  he  smote  his  horse 
with  his  spurs,  and  rode  at  a  great  pace  away  from  them. 
Then  perceived  they  both  that  he  was  Sir  Galahad,  and  up 
they  got  on  their  horses,  and  rode  fast  after  him,  but  in  a 
while  he  was  out  of  their  sight.  And  then  they  turned  again 
with  heavy  cheer.  "Let  us  spere  some  tidings,"  said  Sir 
Perceval,  "  at  yonder  recluse.  "  Do  as  ye  list,"  said  Sir  Launce 
lot.  When  Sir  Perceval  came  to  the  recluse,  she  knew  him 
well  enough,  and  Sir  Launcelot  both. 

But  Sir  Launcelot  rode  overthwart  and  endlong  in  a  wild 
forest,  and  held  no  path,  but  as  wild  adventure  led  him.  And 
at  the  last  he  came  to  a  stony  cross,  which  departed  two  ways 
in  waste  land,  and  by  the  cross  was  a  .stone  that  was  of  marble, 
but  it  was  so  dark  that  Sir  Launcelot  might  not  wit  what  it 
was.  Then  Sir  Launcelot  looked  by  him,  and  saw  an  old 
chapel,  and  there  he  thought  to  have  found  people.  And  Sir 
Launcelot  tied  his  horse  till  a  tree,  and  there  he  did  off  his 
shield,  and  hung  it  upon  a  tree.  And  then  he  went  to  the 
chapel  door,  and  found  it  waste  and  broken.  And  within  he 
found  a  fair  altar  full  richly  arrayed  writh  cloth  of  clean  silk, 
and  there  stood  a  fair,  clean  candlestick  which  bare  six  great 
candles,  and  the  candlestick  was  of  silver.  And  when  Sir 


THE    QUEST    OF    THE    SANGREAL.  155 

Launcelot  saw  this  light,  he  had  great  will  for  to  enter  into 
the  chapel,  but  he  could  find  no  place  where  he  might  enter : 
then  was  he  passing  heavy  and  dismayed.  And  he  returned 
and  came  again  to  his  horse,  and  took  off  his  saddle  and 
his  bridle,  and  let  him  vpasture ;  and  unlaced  his  helm,  and 
ungirded  his  sword,  and  laid  him  down  to  sleep  upon  his  shield 
before  the  cross. 

And  as  he  lay,  half  waking  and  half  sleeping,  he  saw  come 
by  him  two  palfreys,  both  fair  and  white,  which  bare  a  litter, 
on  which  lay  a  sick  knight.  And  when  he  was  nigh  the  cross, 
he  the?-e  abode  still.  And  Sir  Launcelot  heard  him  say, 
"O  sweet  Lord,  when  shall  this  sorrow  leave  me,  and  when 
shall  the  holy  vessel  come  by  me  whereby  I  shall  be  healed?" 
And  thus  a  great  while  complained  the  knight,  and  Sir  Launce 
lot  heard  it.  Then  Sir  Launcelot  saw  the  candlestick,  with 
the  lighted  tapers,  come  before  the  cross,  but  he  could  see 
nobody  that  brought  it.  Also  there  came  a  salver  of  silver 
and  the  holy  vessel  of  the  Sangreal ;  and  therewith  the  sick 
knight  sat  him  upright,  and  held  up  both  his  hands,  and  said, 
"Fair,  sweet  Lord,  which  is  here  within  the  holy  vessel,  take 
heed  to  me,  that  I  may  be  whole  of  this  great  malady."  And 
therewith,  upon  his  hands  and  upon  his  knees,  he  went  so  nigh 
that  he  touched  the  holy  vessel  and  kissed  it.  And  anon 
he  was  whole.  Then  the  holy  vessel  went  into  the  chapel 
again,  with  the  candlestick  and  the  light,  so  that  Sir  Launcelot 
wist  not  what  became  of  it. 

Then  the  sick  knight  rose  up  and  kissed  the  cross;  and  anon 
his  squire  brought  him  his  arms,  and  asked  his  lord  how  he  did. 
"  I  thank  God  right  heartily,"  said  he,  "  for,  through  the  holy 
vessel,  I  am  healed.  But  I  have  great  marvel  of  this  sleeping 
knight,  who  hath  had  neither  grace  nor  power  to  awake  during 
the  time  that  the  holy  vessel  hath  been  here  present."  "I  dare 
it  right  well  say,"  said  the  squire,  "that  this  same  knight  is 
stained  with  some  manner  of  deadly  sin,  whereof  he  was  never 
confessed."  So  they  departed. 

Then  anon  Sir  Launcelot  waked,  and  set  himself  upright, 
and  bethought  him  of  what  he  had  seen,  and  whether  it  were 
dreams  or  not.  And  he  was  passing  heavy,  and  wist  not  what 


156  KING    ARTHUR    AND   HIS    KNIGHTS. 

to  do.  And  he  said:  "My  sin  and  my  wretchedness  hath 
brought  me  into  great  dishonor.  For  when  I  sought  worldly 
adventures  and  worldly  desires,  I  ever  achieved  them,  and  had 
the  better  in  every  place,  and  never  was  I  discomfited  in  any 
quarrel,  were  it  right  or  wrong.  And  now  I  take  upon  me  the 
adventure  of  holy  things,  I  see  and  understand  that  mine  old 
sin  hindereth  me,  so  that  I  had  no  power  to  stir  nor  to  speak 
when  the  holy  blood  appeared  before  me."  So  thus  he  sorrowed 
till  it  was  day,  and  heard  the  fowls  of  the  air  sing.  Then  was 
he  somewhat  comforted. 

Then  he  departed  from  the  cross  into  the  forest.  And  there 
he  found  a  hermitage,  and  a  hermit  therein,  who  was  going  to 
mass.  So  when  mass  was  done,  Sir  Launcelot  called  the 
hermit  to  him,  and  prayed  him  for  charity  to  hear  his  con 
fession.  "  With  a  good  will,"  said  the  good  man.  And  then 
lie  told  that  good  man  all  his  life,  and  how  he  had  loved  a 
queen  immeasurably  many  years.  "And  all  my  great  deeds  of 
arms  that  I  have  done,  I  did  the  most  part  for  the  queen's 
sake,  and  for  her  sake  would  I  do  battle,  were  it  right  or 
wrong,  and  never  did  I  battle  all  only  for  God's  sake,  but  for 
to  win  worship,  and  to  cause  me  to  be  better  beloved  ;  and 
little  or  naught  I  thanked  God  for  it.  I  pray  you  counsel 
rne." 

"I  will  counsel  you,"  said  the  hermit,  "if  ye  will  insure  me 
that  ye  will  never  come  in  that  queen's  fellowship  as  much  as 
ye  may  forbear."  And  then  Sir  Launcelot  promised  the 
hermit,  by  his  faith,  that  he  would  no  more  come  in  her 
company.  "Look  that  your  heart  and  your  mouth  accord," 
said  the  good  man,  "and  I  shall  insure  ye  that  ye  shall  have 
more  worship  than  ever  ye  had." 

Then  the  good  man  enjoined  Sir  Launcelot  such  penance  as 
he  might  do,  and  he  assoiled  Sir  Launcelot,  and  made  him 
abide  with  him  all  that  day.  And  Sir  Launcelot  repented  him 
greatly. 


THE  QUEST  OF  THE  SANGREAL.  157 


SIR  PERCEVAL. 

Sir  Perceval  departed,  and  rode  till  the  hour  of  noon ;  and 
lie  met  in  a  valley  about  twenty  men  of  arms.  And  when  they 
saw  Sir  Perceval,  they  asked  him  whence  he  was;  and  he 
answered,  "Of  the  court  of  King  Arthur."  Then  they  cried 
all  at  once,  "  Slay  him."  But  Sir  Perceval  smote  the  first  to 
the  earth,  and  his  horse  upon  him.  Then  seven  of  the  knights 
smote  upon  his  shield  all  at  once,  and  the  remnant  slew  his 
horse,  so  that  he  fell  to  the  earth.  So  had  they  slain  him  or 
taken  him,  had  not  the  good  knight  Sir  Galahad,  with  the  red 
cross,  come  there  by  adventure.  And  when  he  saw  all  the 
knights  upon  one,  he  cried  out,  "Save  me  that  knight's  life." 
Then  he  rode  toward  the  twenty  men  of  arms  as  fast  as  his 
horse  might  drive,  with  his  spear  in  the  rest,  and  smote  the 
foremost  horse  and  man  to  the  earth.  And  when  his  spear 
was  broken,  he  set  his  hand  to  his  sword,  and  smote  on  the 
right  hand  and  on  the  left,  that  it  was  marvel  to  see ;  and  at 
every  stroke  he  smote  down  one,  or  put  him  to  rebuke,  so  that 
they  would  fight  no  more,  but  fled  to  a  thick  forest,  and  Sir 
Galahad  followed  them.  And  when  Sir  Perceval  saw  him 
chase  them  so,  he  made  great  sorrow  that  his  horse  was  slain. 
And  he  wist  well  it  was  Sir  Galahad.  Then  he  cried  aloud, 
"Ah,  fair  knight,  abide,  and  suffer  me  to  do  thanks  unto  thee; 
for  right  well  have  ye  done  for  me."  But  Sir  Galahad  rode  so 
fast,  that  at  last  he  passed  out  of  his  sight.  AVhen  Sir  Perce 
val  saw  that  he  would  not  turn,  he  said,  "  Now  am  I  a  very 
wretch,  and  most  unhappy  above  all  other  knights."  So  in 
this  sorrow  he  abode  all  that  day  till  it  was  night ;  and  then  he 
was  faint,  and  laid  him  down  and  slept  till  midnight;  and  then 
he  awaked,  and  saw  before  him  a  woman,  who  said  unto  him, 
"Sir  Perceval,  what  dost  thou  here?"  He  answered,  "I  do 
neither  good,  nor  great  ill."  "  If  thou  wilt  promise  me,"  said 
she,  "that  thou  wilt  fulfil  my  will  when  I  summon  thee,  I  will 
lend  thee  my  own  horse,  which  shall  bear  thee  whither  thou 
wilt."  Sir  Perceval  was  glad  of  her  proffer,  and  insured  her 
to  fulfil  all  her  desire.  "Then  abide  me  here,  and  I  will  go 


158  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

fetch  you  a  horse."  And  so  she  soon  came  again,  and  brought 
a  horse  with  her  that  was  inky  black.  When  Perceval  beheld 
that  horse,  he  marvelled,  it  was  so  great  and  so  well  'apparelled. 
And  he  leapt  upon  him,  and  took  no  heed  of  himself.  And  lie 
thrust  him  with  his  spurs,  and  within  an  hour  and  less  he  bare 
him  four  days'  journey  thence,  until  he  came  to  a  rough  wnter, 
which  roared,  and  his  horse  would  have  bare  him  into  it.  And 
when  Sir  Perceval  came  nigh  the  brim,  and  saw  the  water  so 
boisterous,  he  doubted  to  overpass  it.  And  then  he  made  the 
sign  of  the  cross  on  his  forehead.  When  the  fiend  felt  him  so 
charged,  he  shook  off  Sir  Perceval,  and  went  into  the  water 
crying  and  roaring;  and  it  seemed  unto  him  that  the  water 
burned.  Then  Sir  Perceval  perceived  it  was  a  fiend  that 
would  have  brought  him  unto  his  perdition.  Then  he 
commended  himself  unto  God,  and  prayed  our  Lord  to  keep 
him  from  all  such  temptations ;  and  so  he  prayed  all  that  night 
till  it  was  day.  Then  he  saw  that  he  was  in  a  wild  place,  that 
was  closed  with  the  sea  nigh  all  about.  And  Sir  Perceval 
looked  forth  over  the  sea,  and  saw  a  ship  come  sailing  toward 
him ;  and  it  came  and  stood  still  under  the  rock.  And  when 
Sir  Perceval  saw  this,  he  hied  him  thither,  and  found  the  ship 
covered  with  silk  ;  and  therein  was  a  lady  of  great  beauty,  and 
clothed  so  richly  that  none  might  be  better. 

And  when  she  saw  Sir  Perceval  she  saluted  him,  and  Sir 
Perceval  returned  her  salutation.  Then  he  asked  her  of  her 
country  and  her  lineage.  And  she  said,  "I  am  a  gentlewoman 
that  am  disinherited,  and  was  once  the  richest  woman  of  the 
world."  "Damsel,"  said  Sir  Perceval,  "  who  hath  disinherited 
you?  for  I  have  great  pity  of  you."  "  Sir,"  said  she,  "  my  en 
emy  is  a  great  and  powerful  lord,  and  aforetime  he  made  much 
of  me,  so  that  of  his  favor  and  of  my  beauty  I  had  a  Jitlle 
pride  more  than  I  ought  to  have  had.  Also  I  said  a  word  that 
pleased  him  not.  So  he  drove  me  from  his  company  and  from 
mine  heritage.  Therefore  I  know  no  good  knight  nor  good 
man  but  I  get  him  on  my  side  if  I  may.  And,  for  that  I  know 
that  thou  art  a  good  knight,  I  beseech  thee  to  help  me." 

Then  Sir  Perceval  promised  her  all  the  help  that  he  might, 
and  she  thanked  him. 


THE  QUEST  OF  THE  SAXGREAL.  159 

And  at  that  time  the  weather  was  hot,  and  she  called  to  her 
a  gentlewoman,  and  bade  her  bring  forth  a  pavilion.  And  she 
did  so,  and  pitched  it  upon  the  gravel.  "  Sir,"  said  she,  "now 
may  ye  rest  you  in  this  heat  of  the  day."  Then  he  thanked 
her,  and  she  put  off  his  helm  and  his  shield,  and  there  he  slept 
a  great  while.  Then  he  awoke,  and  asked  her  if  she  had  any 
meat,  and  she  said  yea,  and  so  there  was  set  upon  the  table  all 
manner  of  meats  that  he  could  think  on.  Also  he  drank  there 
the  strongest  wine  that  ever  he  drank,  and  therewith  he  was  a 
little  chafed  more  than  he  ought  to  be.  With  that  he  beheld 
the  lady,  and  he. thought  she  was  the  fairest  creature  that  ever 
he  saw.  And  then  Sir  Perceval  proffered  her  love,  and  prayed 
her  that  she  would  be  his.  Then  she  refused  him  in  a  manner, 
for  the  cause  he  should  be  the  more  ardent  on  her,  and  ever  he 
ceased  not  to  pray  her  of  love.  And  when  she  saw  him  well 
enchafed,  then  she  said,  "  Sir  Perceval,  wit  ye  well  I  shall  not 
give  ye  my  love  unless  you  swear  from  henceforth  you  will  be 
my  true  servant,  and  do  no  thing  but  that  I  shall  command 
you.  Will  you  insure  me  this,  as  ye  be  a  true  knight?" 
"  Yea,"  said  he,  "fair  lady,  by  the  faith  of  my  body."  And  as 
he  said  this,  by  adventure  and  grace,  he  saw  his  sword  lie  on 
the  ground  naked,  in  whose  pommel  was  a  red  cross,  and  the 
sign  of  the  crucifix  thereon.  Then  he  made  the  sign  of  the 
cross  upon  his  forehead,  and  therewith  the  pavilion  shrivelled 
up,  and  changed  into  a  smoke  and  a  black  cloud.  And  the 
damsel  cried  aloud,  and  hasted  into  the  ship,  and  so  she  went 
with  the  wind  roaring  and  yelling  that  it  seemed  all  the  water 
burned  after  her.  Then  Sir  Perceval  made  great  sorrow,  and 
called  himself  a  wretch,  saying,  "How  nigh  was  I  lost!" 
Then  he  took  his  arms,  and  departed  thence. 


CHAPTEE  XVI. 

THE    END   OF   THE   QUEST. 

SIR  BOHOKT. 

WHEN  Sir  Bohort  departed  from  Camelot  he  met  with 
a  religious  man,  riding  upon  an  ass  ;  and  Sir  Bohort 
saluted  him.  "  What  are  ye  ?  "  said  the  good  man.  "  Sir,"  said 
Sir  Bohort,  "I  am  a  knight  that  fain  would  be  counselled  in  the 
quest  of  the  Sangreal."  So  rode  they  both  together  till  they 
came  to  a  hermitage  ;  and  there  he  prayed  Sir  Bohort  to  dwell 
that  night  with  him.  So  he  alighted,  and  put  away  his  armor, 
and  prayed  him  that  he  might  be  confessed.  And  they  went 
both  into  the  chapel,  and  there  he  was  clean  confessed.  And 
they  ate  bread  and  drank  water  together.  "Now,"  said  the 
good  man,  "  I  pray  thee  that  thou  eat  none  other  till  thou  sit 
at  the  table  where  the  Sangreal  shall  be."  "  Sir,"  said  Sir  Bo 
hort,  "but  how  know  ye  that  I  shall  sit  there?"  "Yea,"  said 
the  good  man,  "  that  I  know  well ;  but  there  shall  be  few  of 
your  fellows  with  you."  Then  said  Sir  Bohort,  "  I  agree  me 
thereto."  And  the  good  man,  when  he  had  heard  his  confes- 
160 


THE    END    OF    THE    QUEST.  161 

sion,  found  him  in  so  pure  a  life  and  so  stable  that  he  marvelled 
thereof. 

On  the  morrow,  as  soon  as  the  day  appeared,  Sir  Bohort  de 
parted  thence,. and  rode  into  a  forest  unto  the  hour  of  midday. 
And  there  befell  him  a  marvellous  adventure.  For  he  met,  at 
the  parting  of  two  ways,  two  knights  that  led  Sir  Lionel,  his 
brother,  all  naked,  bound  upon  a  strong  hackney,  and  his  hands 
bound  before  his  breast ;  and  each  of  them  held  in  his  hand 
thorns  wherewith  they  went  beating  him,  so  that  he  was  all 
bloody  before  and  behind ;  but  he  said  never  a  word,  but,  as 
he  was  great  of  heart,  he  suffered  all  that  they  did  to  him  as 
though  he  had  felt  none  anguish.  Sir  Bohort  prepared  to  rescue 
his  brother.  But  he  looked  on  the  other  side  of  him,  and  saw 
a  knight  dragging  along  a  fair  gentlewoman,  who  cried  out, 
"  Saint  Mary  !  succor  your  maid  !  "  And  when  she  saw  Sir 
Bohort,  she  called  to  him  and  said,  "  By  the  faith  that  ye  owe 
to  knighthood,  help  me !  "  When  Sir  Bohort  heard  her  say 
thus,  he  had  such  sorrow  that  he  wist  not  what  to  do.  "  For 
if  I  let  my  brother  be  he  must  be  slain,  and  that  would  I  not 
for  all  the  earth  ;  and  if  I  help  not  the  maid  I  am  shamed  for 
ever."  Then  lift  he  up  his  eyes  and  said,  weeping,  "  Fair  Lord, 
whose  liegeman  I  am,  keep  Sir  Lionel,  my  brother,  that  none 
of  these  knights  slay  him,  and  for  pity  of  you,  and  our  Lady's 
sake,  I  shall  succor  this  maid." 

Then  he  cried  out  to  the  knight,  "  Sir  knight,  lay  your  hand 
off  that  maid,  or  else  ye  be  but  dead."  Then  the  knight  set  down 
the  maid,  and  took  his  shield,  and  drew  out  his  sword.  And 
Sir  Bohort  smote  him  so  hard  that  it  went  through  his  shield 
and  habergeon,  on  the  left  shoulder,  and  he  fell  down  to  the 
earth.  Then  came  Sir  Bohort  to  the  maid,  "  Ye  be  delivered 
of  this  knight  this  time."  "Now,"  said  she,  "I  pray  you  lead 
me  there  where  this  knight  took  me."  "  I  shall  gladly  do  it," 
said  Sir  Bohort.  So  he  took  the  horse  of  the  wounded  knight 
and  set  the  gentlewoman  upon  it,  and  brought  her  there  where 
she  desired  to  be.  And  there  he  found  twelve  knights  seeking 
after  her  ;  and  when  she  told  them  how  Sir  Bohort  had  deliv 
ered  her,  they  made  great  joy,  and  besought  him  to  come  to 
her  father,  a  great  lord,  and  he  should  be  right  welcome. 


162  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

"  Truly,"  said  Sir  Bohort,  "that  may  not  be  ;  for  I  have  a  great 
adventure  to  do."  So  he  commended  them  to  God  and  de 
parted. 

Then  Sir  Bohort  rode  after  Sir  Lionel,  his  brother,  by  the 
trace  of  their  horses.  Thus  he  rode,  seeking,  a  great  while. 
Then  he  overtook  a  man  clothed  in  a  religious  clothing,  who 
said,  "Sir  knight,  what  seek  ye?"  "Sir,"  said  Sir  Bohort, 
"  I  seek  my  brother,  that  I  saw  within  a  little  space  beaten  of 
t\vo  knights.  "Ah,  Sir  Bohort,  trouble  not  thyself  to  seek  for 
him,  for  truly  he  is  dead."  Then  he  showed  him  a  new-slain 
body,  lying  in  a  thick  bush ;  and  it  seemed  him  that  it  was  the 
body  of  Sir  Lionel.  And  then  he  made  such  sorrow  that  he 
fell  to  the  ground  in  a  swoon,  and  lay  there  long.  And  when 
he  came  to  himself  again  he  said,  "  Fair  brother,  since  the  fel 
lowship  of  you  and  me  is  sundered,  shall  I  never  have  joy 
again  ;  and  now  He  that  I  have  taken  for  my  master  He  be  my 
help  !  "  And  when  he  had  said  thus,  he  took  up  the  body  in 
his  arms,  and  put  it  upon  the  horse.  And  then  he  said  to  the 
man,  "  Canst  thou  tell  me  the  way  to  some  chapel,  where  I  may 
bury  this  body  ?  "  "  Come  on,"  said  the  man,  "  here  is  one  fast 
by."  And  so  they  rode  till  they  saw  a  fair  tower,  and  beside 
it  a  chapel.  Then  they  alighted  both,  and  put  the  body  into  a 
tojnb  of  marble. 

Then  Sir  Bohort  commended  the  good  man  unto  God,  and 
departed.  And  he  rode  all  that  day,  and  harbored  with  an 
old  lady.  And  on  the  morrow  he  rode  unto  the  castle  in  a 
valley,  and  there  he  met  with  a  yeoman.  "Tell  me,"  said  Sir 
Bohort,  "knowest  thou  of  any  adventure?"  "Sir,"  said  he, 
"here  shall  be,  under  this  castle,  a  great  and  marvellous  tour 
nament."  Then  Sir  Bohort  thought  to  be  there,  if  he  might 
meet  with  any  of  the  fellowship  that  were  in  quest  of  the 
Sangreal ;  so  he  turned  to  a  hermitage  that  was  on  the  border 
of  the  forest.  And  when  he  was  come  thither,  he  found  there 
Sir  Lionel  his  brother,  who  sat  all  armed  at  the  entry  of  the 
chapel  door.  And  when  Sir  Bohort  saw  him,  he  had  great 
joy,  and  he  alighted  off  his  horse,  and  said,  "Fair  brother, 
when  came  ye  hither?"  As  soon  as  Sir  Lionel  saw  him,  he 
said,  "  Ah,  Sir  Bohort,  make  ye  no  false  show,  for,  as  for  you, 


THE    END    OF    THE    QUEST.  163 

I  might  have  been  slain,  for  ye  left  me  in  peril  of  death  to  go 
succor  a  gentlewoman ;  and  for  that  misdeed  I  now  insure  you 
but  death,  for  ye  have  right  well  deserved  it."  When  Sir 
Bohort  perceived  his  brother's  wrath,  he  kneeled  down  to  the 
earth  and  cried  him  meYcy,  holding  up  both  his  hands,  and 
prayed  him  to  forgive  him.  "Nay,"  said  Sir  Lionel,  "thou 
shalt  have  but  death  for  it,  if  I  have  the  upper  hand ;  there 
fore  leap  upon  thy  horse  and  keep  thyself;  and  if  thou  do  not, 
I  will  run  upon  thee  there,  as  thou  standest  on  foot,  and  so 
the  shame  shall  be  mine,  and  the  harm  thine,  but  of  that  I 
reck  not."  When  Sir  Bohort  saw  that  he  must  fight  with  his 
brother  or  else  die,  he  wist  not  what  to  do.  Then  his  heart 
counselled  him  not  so  to  do,  inasmuch  as  Sir  Lionel  was  his 
elder  brother,  wherefore  he  ought  to  bear  him  reverence.  Yet 
kneeled  he  down  before  Sir  Lionel's  horse's  feet,  and  said, 
"  Fair  brother,  have  mercy  upon  me,  and  slay  me  not."  But 
Sir  Lionel  cared  not,  for  the  fiend  had  brought  him  in  such  a 
will  that  he  should  slay  him.  When  he  saw  that  Sir  Bohort 
would  not  rise  to  give  him  battle,  he  rushed  over  him,  so  that 
he  smote  him  with  his  horse's  feet  to  the  earth,  and  hurt  him 
sore,  that  he  swooned  of  distress.  When  Sir  Lionel  saw  this, 
he  alighted  from  his  horse  for  to  have  smitten  off  his  head ; 
and  so  he  took  him  by  the  helm,  and  would  have  rent  it  from 
his  head.  But  it  happened  that  Sir  Colgrevance,  a  knight  of 
the  Round  Table,  came  at  that  time  thither,  as  it  was  our 
Lord's  will ;  and  then  he  beheld  how  Sir  Lionel  would  have 
slain  his  brother,  and  he  knew  Sir  Bohort,  whom  he  loved 
right  well.  Then  leapt  he  down  from  his  horse,  and  took  Sir 
Lionel  by  the  shoulders,  and  drew  him  strongly  back  from  Sir 
Bohort,  and  said,  "Sir  Lionel,  will  ye  slay  your  brother?" 
"Why,"  said  Sir  Lionel,  "will  ye  slay  me?  If  ye  interfere 
in  this,  I  will  slay  you,  and  him  after."  Then  he  ran  upon  Sir 
Bohort,  and  would  have  smitten  him  ;  but  Sir  Colgrevance  ran 
between  them,  and  said,  "  If  ye  persist  to  do  so  any  more,  we 
two  shall  meddle  together."  Then  Sir  Lionel  defied  him,  and 
gave  him  a  great  stroke  through  the  helm.  Then  he  drew  his 
sword,  for  he  was  a  passing  good  knight,  and  defended  him 
self  right  manfully.  So  long  endured  the  battle,  that  Sir 


164  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS   KNIGHTS. 

Bohort  rose  up  all  anguishly,  and  beheld  Sir  Colgrevance,  the 
good  knight,  fight  with  his  brother  for  his  quarrel.  Then  was 
he  full  sorry  and  heavy,  and  thought  that,  if  Sir  Colgrevance 
slew  him  that  was  his  brother,  he  should  never  have  joy,  and 
if  his  brother  slew  Sir  Colgrevance,  the  shame  should  ever 
be  his. 

Then  would  he  have  risen  for  to  have  parted  them,  but  he 
had  not  so  much  strength  to  stand  on  his  feet ;  so  he  staid  so 
long  that  Sir  Colgrevance  had  the  worse,  for  Sir  Lionel  was  of 
great  chivalry  and  right  hardy.  Then  cried  Sir  Colgrevance, 
"Ah,  Sir  Bohort,  why  come  ye  not  to  bring  me  out  of  peril  of 
death,  wherein  I  have  put  me  to  succor  you?"  With  that, 
Sir  Lionel  smote  off  his  helm,  and  bore  him  to  the  earth. 
And  when  he  had  slain  Sir  Colgrevance,  he  ran  upon  his 
brother  as  a  fiendly  man,  and  gave  him  such  a  stroke  that  he 
made  him  stoop.  And  he  that  was  full  of  humility  prayed 
him,  "  For  God's  sake  leave  this  battle,  for  if  it  befell,  fair 
brother,  that  I  slew  you,  or  ye  me,  we  should  be  dead  of  that 
sin."  "Pray  ye  not  me  for  mercy,"  said  Sir  Lionel.  Then 
Sir  Bohort,  all  weeping,  drew  his  sword,  and  said,  "Now  God 
have  mercy  upon  me,  though  I  defend  my  life  against  my 
brother."  With  that  Sir  Bohort  lifted  up  his  sword,  and 
would  have  stricken  his  brother.  Then  heard  he  a  voice  that 
said,  "Flee,  Sir  Bohort,  and  touch  him  not."  Right  so 
alighted  a  cloud  between  them,  in  the  likeness  of  a  fire,  and  a 
marvellous  flame,  so  that  they  both  fell  to  the  earth,  and  lay 
there  a  great  while  in  a  swoon.  And  when  they  came  to 
themselves,  Sir  Bohort  saw  that  his  brother  had  no  harm  ;  and 
he  was  right  glad,  for  he  dread  sore  that  God  had  taken  ven 
geance  upon  him.  Then  Sir  Lionel  said  to  his  brother, 
"  Brother,  forgive  me,  for  God's  sake,  all  that  I  have  tres 
passed  against  you."  And  Sir  Bohort  answered,  "God  forgive 
it  thee,  and  I  do." 

With  that  Sir  Bohort  heard  a  voice  say,  "  Sir  Bohort,  take 
thy  way  anon,  right  to  the  sea,  for  Sir  Perceval  abideth  thee 
there."  So  Sir  Bohort  departed,  and  rode  the  nearest  way  to 
the  sea.  And  at  last  he  came  to  an  abbey  that  was  nigh  the 
sea.  That  night  he  rested  him  there,  and  in  his  sleep  there 


THE    END    OF    THE    QUEST.  165 

came  a  voice  unto  him  and  bade  him  go  to  the  sea-shore.  He 
started  up,  and  made  the  sign  of  the  cross  on  his  forehead,  and 
armed  himself,  and  made  ready  his  horse  and  mounted  him, 
and  at  a  broken  wall  he  rode  out,  and  came  to  the  sea-shore. 
And  there  he  found  a  ship-,  covered  all  with  white  samite.  And 
he  entered  into  the  ship;  but  it  was  anon  so  dark  that  he  might 
see  no  man,  and  he  laid  him  down  and  slept  till  it  was  day. 
Then  he  awaked,  and  saw  in  the  middle  of  the  ship  a  knight 
all  armed,  save  his  helm.  And  then  he  knew  it  was  Sir  Perce 
val  de  Galis,  and  each  made  of  other  right  great  joy.  Then 
said  Sir  Perceval,  "  We  lack  nothing  now  but  the  good  knight 
Sir  Galahad." 

OF  SIR  LAUNCELOT  AGAIN. 

It  befell  upon  a  night  Sir  Launcelot  arrived  before  a  castle, 
which  was  rich  and  fair.  And  there  was  a  postern  that  opened 
toward  the  sea,  and  was  open  without  any  keeping,  save  two 
lions  kept  the  entry;  and  the  moon  shined  clear.  Anon  Sir 
Launcelot  heard  a  voice  that  said,  "  Launcelot,  enter  into  the 
castle,  where  thou  shalt  see  a  great  part  of  thy  desire."  So  he 
went  unto  the  gate,  and  saw  the  two  lions ;  then  he  set  hands 
to  his  sword,  and  drew  it.  Then  there  came  suddenly  as  it 
were  a  stroke  upon  the  arm,  so  sore  that  the  sword  fell  out  of 
his  hand,  and  he  heard  a  voice  that  said,  "O  man  of  evil  faith, 
wherefore  believest  thou  more  in  thy  armor  than  in  thy  Maker?  " 
Then  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "  Fair  Lord,  I  thank  thee  of  thy  great 
mercy,  that  thou  reprovest  me  of  my  misdeed ;  now  see  I  well 
that  thou  boldest  me  for  thy  servant."  Then  he  made  a  cross 
on  his  forehead,  and  came  to  the  lions ;  and  they  made  sem 
blance  to  do  him  harm,  but  he  passed  them  without  hurt,  and 
entered  into  the  castle,  and  he  found  no  gate  nor  door  but  it  was 
open.  But  at  the  last  he  found  a  chamber  whereof  the  door 
was  shut ;  and  he  set  his  hand  thereto,  to  have  opened  it,  but 
he  might  not.  Then  he  listened,  and  heard  a  voice  which  sung 
so  sweetly  that  it  seemed  none  earthly  thing ;  and  the  voice 
said,  "Joy  and  honor  be  to  the  Father  of  heaven."  Then  Sir 
Launcelot  kneeled  down  before  the  chamber,  for  well  he  wist 
that  there  was  the  Sangreal  in  that  chamber.  Then  said  he, 


166  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

"  Fair,  sweet  Lord,  if  ever  I  did  anything  that  pleased  thee 
for  thy  pity  show  me  something  of  that  which  I  seek."  And 
with  that  he  saw  the  chamber  door  open,  and  there  came  out 
a  great  clearness,  that  the  house  was  as  bright  as  though  all  the 
torches  of  the  world  had  .been  there.  So  he  came  to  the  cham 
ber  door,  and  would  have  entered ;  and  anon  a  voice  said  unto 
him,  "  Stay,  Sir  Launcelot,  and  enter  not."  And  he  withdrew 
him  back,  and  was  right  heavy  in  his  mind.  Then  looked  he 
in  the  midst  of  the  chamber,  and  saw  a  table  of  silver,  and  the 
holy  vessel,  covered  with  red  samite,  and  many  angels  about  it; 
whereof  one  held  a  candle  of  wax  burning,  and  another  held 
a  cross,  and  the  ornaments  of  the  altar.  Then,  for  very  won 
der  and  thankfulness,  Sir  Launcelot  forgot  himself,  and  he 
stepped  forward  and  entered  the  chamber.  And  suddenly  a 
breath  that  seemed  intermixed  with  fire  smote  him  so  sore  in 
the  visage,  that  therewith  he  fell  to  the  ground,  and  had  no 
power  to  rise.  Then  felt  he  many  hands  about  him,  which 
took  him  up,  and  bare  him  out  of  the  chamber,  without  any 
amending  of  his  swoon,  and  left  him  there,  seeming  dead  to  all 
the  people.  So  on  the  morrow,  when  it  was  fair  daylight,  and 
they  within  were  arisen,  they  found  Sir  Launcelot  lying  before 
the  chamber  door.  And  they  looked  upon  him  and  felt  his 
pulse,  to  know  if  there  were  any  life  in  him.  And  they  found 
life  in  him,  but  he  might  neither  stand  nor  stir  any  member  that 
he  had.  So  they  took  him  and  bare  him  into  a  chamber,  and 
laid  him  upon  a  bed,  far  from  all  folk,  and  there  he  lay  many 
days.  Then  the  one  said  he  was  alive,  and  others  said  nay. 
But  said  an  old  man,  "  He  is  as  full  of  life  as  the  mightiest 
of  you  all,  and  therefore  I  counsel  you  that  lie  be  well  kept  till 
God  bring  him  back  again."  And  after  twenty-four  days  he 
opened  his  eyes ;  and  when  he  saw  folk,  he  made  great  sor 
row,  and  said,  "Why  have  ye  wakened  me?  for  I  was  better 
at  ease  than  I  am  now."  "  What  have  ye  seen  ?  "  said  they 
about  him.  "I  have  seen,"  said  he,  "great  marvels  that  no 
tongue  can  tell,  and  more  than  any  heart  can  think."  Then 
they  said,  "  Sir,  the  quest  of  the  Sangreal  is  achieved  right 
now  in  you,  and  never  shall  ye  see  more  of  it  than  ye  have 
seen."  "I  thank  God,"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "of  His  great 


THE    END   OF    THE    QUEST.  167 

Hiercy,  for  that  I  have  seen,  for  it  sufficeth  me."  Then  he 
/osc  up  and  clothed  himself;  and  when  he  was  so  arrayed, 
they  marvelled  all,  for  they  knew  it  was  Sir  Launcelot,  the 
good  knight.  And,  after  four  days,  he  took  his  leave  of  the 
lord  of  the  castle,  and  of  all  the  fellowship  that  were  there, 
and  thanked  them  for  their  great  labor  and  care  of  him.  Then 
he  departed,  and  turned  to  Camelot,  where  he  found  King  Ar 
thur  and  Queen  Guenever;  but  many  of  the  knights  of  the 
Round  Table  were  slain  and  destroyed,  more  than  half.  Then 
all  the  court  was  passing  glad  of  Sir  Launcelot ;  and  he  told 
the  king  all  his  adventures  that  had  befallen  him  since  he 
departed. 

SIR  GALAHAD. 

Now,  when  Sir  Galahad  had  rescued  Perceval  from  the 
twenty  knights,  he  rode  into  a  vast  forest,  wherein  he  abode 
many  days.  Then  he  took  his  way  to  the  sea,  and  it  befell 
him  that  ho  was  benighted  in  a  hermitage.  And  the  good  man 
was  glad  when  he  saw  he  was  a  knight-errant.  And  when 
they  were  at  rest,  there  came  a  gentlewoman  knocking  at  the 
door;  and  the  good  man  came  to  the  door  to  wit  what  she 
would.  Then  she  said,  "I  would  speak  with  the  knight 
which  is  with  you."  Then  Galahad  went  to  her,  and  asked  her 
what  she  would.  "  Sir  Galahad,"  said  she,  "  I  will  that  ye  arm 
you,  and  mount  upon  your  horse,  and  follow  me ;  for  I  will 
show  you  the  highest  adventure  that  ever  knight  saw."  Then 
Galahad  armed  himself  and  commended  himself  to  God,  and 
bade  the  damsel  go  before,  and  he  would  follow  where  she  led. 

So  she  rodo  as  fast  as  her  palfrey  might  bear  her,  till  she 
came  to  too  nea ;  and  there  they  found  the  ship  where  Sir 
Bohort  and  Sir  Perceval  were,  who  cried  from  the  ship,  "  Sir 
Galahad,  you  are  welcome  ;  we  have  awaited  you  long."  And 
when  he  heard  them,  he  asked  the  damsel  who  they  were. 
"  Sir,"  said  she,  "leave  your  horse  here,  and  I  shall  leave  mine, 
and  we  will  join  ourselves  to  their  company."  So  they  entered 
into  the  ship,  and  the  two  knights  received  them  both  with 
great  joy0  For  they  knew  the  damsel,  that  she  was  Sir  Perce 
val's  sister.  Then  the  wind  arose  and  drove  them  through  the 


168  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

sea  all  that  day  and  the'next,  till  the  ship  arrived  between  two 
rocks,  passing  great  and  marvellous ;  but  there  they  might  not 
land,  for  there  was  a  whirlpool ;  but  there  was  another  ship, 
and  upon  it  they  might  go  without  danger.  "  Go  we  thither," 
said  the  gentlewoman,  "  and  there  shall  we  see  adventures,  for 
such  is  our  Lord's  will."  Then  Sir  Galahad  blessed  him,  and 
entered  therein,  and  then  next  the  gentlewoman,  and  then 
Sir  Bohort  and  Sir  Perceval.  And  when  they  came  on  board, 
they  found  there  the  table  of  silver,  and  the  Sangreal,  which 
was  covered  with  red  samite.  And  they  made  great  rever 
ence  thereto,  and  Sir  Galahad  prayed  a  long  time  to  our 
Lord,  that  at  what  time  he  should  ask  to  pass  out  of  this 
world,  he  should  do  so ;  and  a  voice  said  to  him,  "  Galahad, 
thou  shalt  have  thy  request ;  and  when  thou  askest  the  death 
of  thy  body  thou  shalt  have  it,  and  then  shalt  thou  find  the 
life  of  thy  soul." 

And  anon  the  wind  drove  them  across  the  sea,  till  they 
came  to  the  city  of  Sarras.  Then  they  took  out  of  the  ship  the 
table  of  silver,  and  he  took  it  to  Sir  Perceval  and  Sir  Bohort 
to  go  before,  and  Sir  Galahad  came  behind,  and  right  so  they 
came  to  the  city,  and  at  the  gate  of  the  city  they  saw  an  old 
man,,  crooked.  Then  Sir  Galahad  called  him  and  bade  him 
help  bear  this  heavy  thing.  "Truly,"  said  the  old  man,  "it  is 
ten  years  ago  that  I  might  not  go  save  with  crutches."  "  Care 
thou  not,"  said  Sir  Galahad,  "but  arise  up  and  show  thy  good 
will."  And  so  he  assayed  and  found  himself  as  whole  as  ever 
he  was.  Then  ran  he  to  the  table  and  took  one  part  against 
Sir  Galahad.  And  anon  arose  there  a  great  noise  in  the  city, 
that  a  cripple  was  made  whole  by  knights  marvellous  that 
entered  into  the  city.  Then  anon  after,  the  three  knights 
went  to  the  water,  and  brought  up  into  the  palace  Sir  Perce 
val's  sister.  And  when  the  king  of  the  city,  which  was  cleped 
Estorause,  saw  the  fellowship,  he  asked  them  of  whence  they 
were,  and  what  thing  it  was  they  had  brought  upon  the  table 
of  silver.  And  they  told  him  the  truth  of  the  Sangreal,  and 
the  power  which  God  had  set  there.  Then  the  king  was  a 
tyrant,  and  was  come  of  the  line  of  Paynims,  and  took  them; 
and  put  them  in  prison  in  a  deep  hole. 


THE    END    OF    THE    QUEST.  169 

Bat  as  soon  as  they  were  there,  our  Lord  sent  them  the 
Sangreal,  through  whose  grace  they  were  always  filled  while 
that  they  were  in  prison.  So  at  the  year's  end  it  befell  that 
this  king  Estorause  lay  sick,  and  felt  that  he  should  die.  Then 
he  sent  for  the  three  knigfits,  and  they  came  afore  him,  and  he 
cried  them  mercy  of  that  he  had  done  to  them,  and  they 
forgave  it  him  goodly,  and  he  died  anon.  When  the  king  was 
dead,  all  the  city  was  dismayed,  and  wist  not  who  might  be 
their  king.  Right  so  they  were  in  council,  there  came  a  voice 
among  them,  and  bade  them  choose  the  youngest  knight  of 
them  three  to  be  their  king,  "  for  he  shall  well  maintain  you  and 
all  yours,"  So  they  made  Sir  Galahad  king  by  all  the  assent 
of  the  whole  city,  and  else  they  would  have  slain  him.  And 
when  he  was  come  to  behold  the  land,  he  had  made  about  the 
table  of  silver  a  chest  of  gold  and  of  precious  stones  that 
covered  the  holy  vessel,  and  every  day  early  the  three  fellows 
would  come  afore  it  and  make  their  prayers.  Now  at  the 
year's  end,  and  the  next  day  after  Sir  Galahad  had  borne  the 
crown  of  gold,  he  rose  up  early,  and  his  fellows,  and  came  to 
the  palace,  and  saw  before  them  the  holy  vessel,  and  a  man 
kneeling  on  his  knees,  in  likeness  of  a  bishop,  that  had  about 
him  a  great  fellowship  of  angels,  as  it  had  been  Jesus  Christ 
himself.  And  then  he  arose  and  began  a  mass  of  Our  Lady. 
And  when  he  came  to  the  sacrament  of  the  mass,  and  had 
done,  anon  he  called  Sir  Galahad,  and  said  to  him,  "  Come 
forth,  the  servant  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  thou  shalt  see  that  thou 
hast  much  desired  to  see."  And  then  he  began  to  tremble 
right  hard,  when  the  deadly  flesh  began  to  behold  the  spiritual 
things.  Then  he  held  up  his  hands  toward  heaven,  and  said, 
"Lord,  I  thank  thee,  for  now  I  see  that  that  hath  been  my 
desire  many  a  day.  Now,  blessed  Lord,  would  I  not  longer 
live;  if  it  might  please  thee,  Lord."  And  therewith  the  good 
man  took  our  Lord's  body  betwixt  his  hands,  and  proffered  it 
to  Sir  Galahad,  and  he  received  it  right  gladly  and  meekly. 
"Now,  wottest  thou  what  I  am  ? "  said  the  good  man.  "  Nay," 
said  Sir  Galahad.  "I  am  Joseph  of  Arimathea,  which  our 
Lord  hath  sent  here  to  bear  thee  fellowship.  And  wottest  thou 
wherefore  that  he  hath  sent  me  more  than  any  other?  For 


170  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

thou  hast  resembled  me  in  two  things,  in  that  thou  hast  seen 
the  marvels  of  the  Sangreal,  and  in  that  thou  hast  been  a  clean 
maiden  as  I  have  been  and  am."  And  when  he  had  said  these 
words  Sir  Galahad  went  to  Sir  Perceval  and  kissed  him,  and 
commanded  him  to  God.  And  so  he  went  to  Sir  Bohort  and 
kissed  him,  and  commanded  him  to  God,  and  said,  "  Fair  lord, 
salute  me  to  my  lord  Sir  Launcelot,  my  father,  and  as  soon  as 
ye  see  him  bid  him  remember  of  this  unstable  world."  •  And 
therewith  he  kneeled  down  before  the  table  and  made  his 
prayers,  and  then  suddenly  his  soul  departed  to  Jesus  Christ, 
and  a  great  multitude  of  angels  bare  his  soul  up  to  heaven, 
that  the  two  fellows  might  well  behold  it.  Also  the  two  fel 
lows  saw  come  from  heaven  an  hand,  but  they  saw  not  the 
body;  and  then  it  came  right  to  the  vessel,  and  took  it  and  the 
spear,  and  so  bare  it  up  to  heaven.  Sithen  there  was  never 
man  so  hardy  to  say  that  he  had  seen  the  Sangreal. 

When  Sir  Perceval  and  Sir  Bohort  saw  Sir  Galahad  dead 
they  made  as  much  sorrow  as  ever  did  two  men ;  and  if  they 
had  not  been  good  men  they  might  lightly  have  fallen  into  de 
spair.  And  the  people  of  the  country  and  of  the  city  were 
right  heavy.  And  then  he  was  buried.  And  as  soon  as  he 
was  buried  Sir  Perceval  yielded  him  to  an  hermitage  out  of  the 
city,  and  took  a  religious  clothing ;  and  Sir  Bohort  was  always 
with  him,  but  never  changed  he  his  secular  clothing,  for  that 
he  purposed  to  go  again  into  the  realm  of  Loegria.  Thus  a 
year  and  two  months  lived  Sir  Perceval  in  the  hermitage  a  full 
holy  life,  and  then  he  passed  out  of  this  world.  And  Sir  Bo 
hort  let  bury  him  by  his  sister  and  by  Sir  Galahad. 

And  when  Sir  Bohort  saw  that  he  was  in  so  far  countries  as 
in  the  parts  of  Babylon,  he  departed  from  Sarras,  and  armed 
him,  and  came  to  the  sea,  and  entered  into  a  ship,  and  so  it 
befell  him  in  good  adventure  he  came  into  the  realm  of  Loe 
gria.  And  he  rode  so  fast  till  he  came  to  Camelot,  where  the 
king  was.  And  then  was  there  great  joy  made  of  him  in  the 
court,  for  they  wend  all  he  had  been  dead,  forasmuch  as  he  had 
been  so  long  out  of  the  country.  And  when  they  had  eaten, 
the  king  made  great  clerks  to  come  afore  him,  that  they  should 
chronicle  of  the  high  adventures  of  the  good  knights.  Then 


THE    END    OF   THE    QUEST.  171 

Sir  Bohort  told  him  of  the  adventures  of  the  Sangreal,  such 
as  had  befallen  him  and  his  three  fellows,  that  was  Sir  Launce- 
lot,  Sir  Perceval,  and  Sir  Galahad.  Then  Sir  Launcelot  told 
the  adventures  .of  the  Sangreal  that  he  had  seen.  All  this  was 
made  in  great  books,  and  'put  in  almeries  in  Salisbury.  And 
anon  Sir  Bohort  said  to  Sir  Launcelot,  "Galahad,  your  own 
son,  saluted  you  by  me,  and  after  you  King  Arthur,  and  all  the 
court,  and  so  did  Sir  Perceval ;  for  I  buried  them  with  mine 
own  hands  in  the  city  of  Sarras.  Also,  Sir  Launcelot,  Galahad 
prayeth  you  to  remember  of  this  uncertain  world,  as  ye  be- 
hight  him  when  ye  were  together  more  than  half  a  year." 
"  This  is  true,"  said  Sir  Launcelot ;  "  now  I  trust  to  God  his 
prayer  shall  avail  me."  Then  Sir  Launcelot  took  Sir  Bohort 
in  his  arms,  and  said,  "  Gentle  cousin,  ye  are  right  welcome  to 
me,  and  all  that  ever  I  may  do  for  you  and  for  yours,  ye  shall  find 
my  poor  body  ready  at  all  times  whiles  the  spirit  is  in  it,  and 
that  I  promise  you  faithfully,  and  never  to  fail.  And  wit  ye 
well,  gentle  cousin  Sir  Bohort,  that  ye  and  I  will  never  part  in 
sunder  whilst  our  lives  may  last."  "  Sir,"  said  he,  "  I  will  as  ye 
will." 

Thus  endeth  the  history  of  the  Sangreal,  which  is  a  story 
chronicled  as  one  of  the  truest  and  holiest  that  is  in  this 
world. 


Tennyson  has  among  his  shorter  poems  one  on  Sir  Galahad, 
which  we  add  as  being  the  conception  of  this  purest  of  knights 
held  by  the  poet  who  has  loved  best  of  all  English  poets  the 
old  stories  of  the  Knights  of  the  Round  Table:  — 


SIR  GALAHAD. 

"  My  good  blade  carves  the  casques  of  men, 

My  tough  lance  thrusteth  sure, 
My  strength  is  as  the  strength  of  ten, 

Because  my  heart  is  pure. 
The  shattering  trumpet  shrilleth  high, 

The  hard  brands  shiver  on  the  steel, 
The  splintered  spear-shafts  crack  and  fly, 

The  horse  and  rider  reel : 


172  KING   ARTHUR    AND   HIS   KNIGHTS. 

They  reel,  they  roll  in  clanging  lists, 
And  when  the  tide  of  combat  stands, 

Perfume  and  flowers  fall  in  showers, 
That  lightly  rain  from  ladies'  hands. 

"  How  sweet  are  looks  that  ladies  bend 

On  whom  their  favors  fall! 
For  them  I  battle  to  the  end, 

To  save  from  shame  and  thrall : 
But  all  my  heart  is  drawn  above, 

My  knees  are  bound  in  crypt  and  shrine: 
I  never  felt  the  kiss  of  love, 

Nor  maiden's  hand  in  mine. 
More  bounteous  aspects  on  me  beam, 

Me  mightier  transports  move  and  thrill; 
So  keep  I  fair  thro'  faith  and  prayer, 

A  virgin  heart  in  work  and  will. 

"  When  down  the  stormy  crescent  goes, 

A  light  before  me  swims, 
Between  dark  stems  the  forest  glows, 

I  hear  a  noise  of  hymns : 
Then  by  some  secret  shrine  I  ride ; 

I  hear  a  voice,  but  none  are  there ; 
The  stalls  are  void,  the  doors  are  wide, 

The  tapers  burning  fair. 
Fair  gleams  the  snowy  altar-cloth, 

The  silver  vessels  sparkle  clean, 
The  shrill  bell  rings,  the  censer  swings, 

And  solemn  chants  resound  between. 

"  Sometimes  on  lonely  mountain  meres 

I  find  a  magic  bark ; 
I  leap  on  board :  no  helmsman  steers : 

I  float  till  all  is  dark. 
A  gentle  sound,  an  awful  light ! 

Three  angels  bear  the  holy  Grail : 
With  folded  feet,  in  stoles  of  white, 

On  sleeping  wings  they  sail. 
Ah,  blessed  vision !  blood  of  God ! 

My  spirit  beats  her  mortal  bars, 
As  down  dark  tides  the  glory  slides 

And  star-like  mingles  with  the  stars. 

"  When  on  my  goodly  charger  borne 

Thro'  dreaming  towns  I  go, 
The  cock  crows  ere  the  Christmas  morn, 
The  streets  are  dumb  with  snow. 


THE    END   OF   THE    QUEST.  173 

The  tempest  crackles  on  the  leads, 

And,  ringing,  springs  from  brand  and  mail; 
But  o'er  the  dark  a  glory  spreads 

And  gilds  the  driving  hail. 
I  leave  the  plain,  I  climb  the  height; 

No  branchy  thicket  shelter  yields ; 
But  blessed  forms  in  whisking  storms 

Fly  o'er  waste  fens  and  windy  fields. 

'  A  maiden  knight  — to  me  is  given 

Such  hope,  I  know  not  fear; 
I  yearn  to  breathe  the  airs  of  heaven 

That  often  meet  me  here. 
I  muse  on  joy  that  will  not  cease, 

Pui'e  spaces  clothed  in  living  beams, 
Pure  lilies  of  eternal  peace, 

Whose  odors  haunt  rny  dreams ; 
And  stricken  by  an  angel's  hand, 

This  mortal  armour  that  I  wear, 
This  weight  and  rise,  this  heart  and  eyes, 

Are  touched,  are  turned  to  finest  air. 

"The  clouds  are  broken  in  the  sky, 

And  thro'  the  mountain- walls 
A  rolling  organ-harmony 

Swells  up,  and  shakes  and  falls. 
Then  move  the  trees,  the  copses  nod, 

Wings  flutter,  voices  hover  clear : 
O  just  and  faithful  knight  of  God » 

Ride  on !  the  prize  is  near ! 
So  pass  I  hostel,  hall,  and  grange ; 

By  hedge  and  ford,  by  park  and  pale, 
All  armed  I  ride,  whate'er  betide, 

Until  I  find  the  holy  Grail." 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


SIR   AGRIVAIN'S    TREASON. 

SO  after  the  quest  of  the  Sangreal  was  fulfilled,  and  all  the 
knights  that  were  left  on  live  were  come  again  to  the  Ta 
ble  Round,  there  was  great  joy  in  the  court,  and  in  especial 
King  Arthur  and  Queen  Guenever  made  great  joy  of  the  rem 
nant  that  were  come  home,  and  passing  glad  were  the  king  and 
the  queen  of  Sir  Launcelot  and  of  Sir  Boliort,  for  they  had 
been  passing  long  away  in  the  quest  of  the  Sangreal. 

Then  Sir  Launcelot  began  to  resort  unto  Queen  Guenever 
again,  and  forgot  the  promise  that  he  made  in  the  quest ; 
so  that  many  in  the  court  spoke  of  it,  and  in  especial  Sir  Agri- 
vain,  Sir  Gawain's  brother,  for  he  was  ever  open-mouthed.  So 
it  happened  Sir  Gawain  and  all  his  brothers  were  in  King  Ar 
thur's  chamber,  and  then  Sir  Agrivain  said  thus  openly,  "I 
marvel  that  we  all  are  not  ashamed  to  see  and  to  know  so  noble 
a  knight  as  King  Arthur  so  to  be  shamed  by  the  conduct  of 
Sir  Launcelot  and  the  queen."  Then  spoke  Sir  Gawain,  and 
said,  "  Brother,  Sir  Agrivain,  I  pray  you  and  charge  you  move 
174 


SIR  AGRIVAIN'S  TREASON.  175 

not  such  matters  any  more  before  me,  for  be  ye  assured  I  will 
r.ot  be  of  your  counsel."  "Neither  will  we,"  said  Sir  Gaheris 
and  Sir  Garetb.  "  Then  will  I,"  said  Sir  Modred.  "  I  doubt 
you  not,"  said  Sir  Gawain,  "for  to  all  mischief  ever  were  ye 
prone  ;  yet  I  would  that  ye  left  all  this,  for  I  know  what  will 
come  of  it."  "  Fall  of  it  what  fall  may,"  said  Sir  Agrivain, 
"  I  will  disclose  it  to  the  king."  With  that  came  to  them  King 
Arthur.  "Now,  brothers,  hold  your  peace,"  said  Sir  Gawain. 
"We  will  not,"  said  Sir  Agrivain.  Then  said  Sir  Gawain,  "I 
will  not  hear  your  tales,  nor  be  of  your  counsel."  "No  more 
will  I,"  said  Sir  Gareth  and  Sir  Gaheris,  and  therewith  they 
departed,  making  great  sorrow. 

Then  Sir  Agrivain  told  the  king  all  that  was  said  in  the  court 
of  the  conduct  of  SirLauncelot  and  the  queen,  and  it  grieved  the 
king  very  much.  But  he  would  not  believe  it  to  be  true  with 
out  proof.  So  Sir  Agrivain  laid  a  plot  to  entrap  Sir  Launce 
lot  and  the  queen,  intending  to  take  them  together  unawares. 
Sir  Agrivain  and  Sir  Modred  led  a  party  for  this  purpose,  but 
Sir  Launcelot  escaped  from  them,  having  slain  Sir  Agrivain  and 
wounded  Sir  Modred.  Then  Sir  Launcelot  hastened  to  his 
friends,  and  told  them  what  had  happened,  and  withdrew  with 
them  to  the  forest ;  but  he  left  spies  to  bring  him  tidings  of 
whatever  might  be  done. 

So  Sir  Launcelot  escaped,  but  the  queen  remained  in  the 
king's  power,  and  Arthur  could  no  longer  doubt  of  her  guilt. 
And  the  law  was  such  in  those  days  that  they  who  committed 
such  crimes,  of  what  estate  or  condition  soever  they  were,  must 
be  burned  to  death,  and  so  it  was  ordained  for  Queen  Guenever. 
Then  said  King  Arthur  to  Sir  Gawain,  "  I  pray  you  make  you 
ready,  in  your  best  armor,  with  your  brethren,  Sir  Gaheris  and 
Sir  Gareth,  to  bring  my  queen  to  the  fire,  there  to  receive  her 
death."  "Nay,  my  most  noble  lord,"  said  Sir  Gawain,  "that 
will  I  never  do ;  for  know  thou  well,  my  heart  will  never  serve 
me  to  see  her  die,  and  it  shall  never  be  said  that  I  was  of  your 
counsel  in  her  death."  Then  the  king  commanded  Sir  Gaheris 
and  Sir  Gareth  to  be  there,  and  they  said,  "  We  will  be  there, 
as  ye  command  us,  sire,  but  in  peaceable  wise,  and  bear  no  armor 
upon  us." 


176  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

So  the  queen  was  led  forth,  and  her  ghostly  father  was 
brought  to  her  to  shrive  her,  and  there  was  weeping  and  wail 
ing  of  many  lords  and  ladies.  And  one  went  and  told  Sir 
Launcelot  that  the  queen  was  led  forth  to  her  death.  Then 
Sir  Launcelot  and  the  knights  that  were  with  him  fell  upon  the 
troop  that  guarded  the  queen,  and  dispersed  them,  and  slew 
all  who  withstood  them.  And  in  the  confusion  Sir  Gareth  and 
Sir  Gaheris  were  slain,  for  they  were  unarmed  and  defenceless. 
And  Sir  Launcelot  carried  away  the  queen  to  his  castle  of  La 
Joy e use  Garde. 

Then  there  came  one  to  Sir  Gawain  and  told  him  how  that 
Sir  Launcelot  had  slain  the  knights  and  carried  away  the  queen. 
"O  Lord,  defend  my  brethren  !"  said  Sir  Gawain.  "Truly," 
said  the  man,  "  Sir  Gareth  and  Sir  Gaheris  are  slain."  "Alas  ! " 
said  Sir  Gawain,  "now  is  my  joy  gone."  And  then  he  fell 
down  and  swooned,  and  long  he  lay  there  as  he  had  been  dead. 

When  he  arose  out  of  his  swoon  Sir  Gawain  ran  to  the  kino-. 

O™ 

crying,  "  O  King  Arthur,  mine  uncle,  my  brothers  are  slain." 
Then  the  king  wept  and  he  both.  "My  king,  my  lord,  and 
mine  uncle,"  said  Sir  Gawain,  "  bear  witness  now  that  I  make 
you  a  promise  that  I  shall  hold  by  my  knighthood,  that  from 
this  day  I  will  never  fail  Sir  Launcelot  until  the  one  of  us  have 
slain  the  other.  I  will  seek  Sir  Launcelot  throughout  seven 
kings'  realms,  but  I  shall  slay  him  or  he  shall  slay  me."  "  Ye 
shall  not  need  to  seek  him,"  said  the  king,  "  for,  as  I  hear,  Sir 
Launcelot  will  abide  me  and  you  in  the  Joyeuse  Garde ;  and 
much  people  draweth  unto  him,  as  I  hear  say."  "That  may  I 
believe,"  said  Gawain,  "but,  my  lord,  summon  your  friends, 
and  I  will  summon  mine."  "It  shall  be  done,"  said  the  king. 
So  then  the  king  sent  letters  and  writs  throughout  all  Eng 
land,  both  in  the  length  and  breadth,  to  summon  all  his  knights. 
And  unto  Arthur  drew  many  knights,  dukes,  and  earls,  so  that 
he  had  a  great  host.  Thereof  heard  Sir  Launcelot,  and  col 
lected  all  whom  he  could ;  and  many  good  knights  held  with 
him,  both  for  his  sake  and  for  the  queen's  sake.  But  King  Ar 
thur's  host  was  too  great  for  Sir  Launcelot  to  abide  him  in  the 
field ;  and  he  was  full  loath  to  do  battle  against  the  king.  So 
Sir  Launcelot  drew  him  to  his  strong  castle,  with  all  manner 


SIR  AGRIVAIN'S  TREASON.  177 

of  provisions.  Then  came  King  Arthur  and  Sir  Gawain,  and 
laid  siege  all  about  La  Joyeuse  Garde,  both  the  town  and 
the  castle;  but  in  no  wise  would  Sir  Launcelot  ride  out  of  his 
castle,  neither  suffer  any  of  his  knights  to  issue  out,  until  many 
weeks  were  past. 

Then  it  befell  upon  a  day  in  harvest-time  Sir  Launcelot 
looked  over  the  wall,  and  spake  aloud  to  King  Arthur  and  Sir 
Gawain,  "My  lords  both,  all  is  vain  that  ye  do  at  this  siege, 
for  here  ye  shall  win  no  worship,  but  only  dishonor;  for  if  I 
list  to  come  out,  and  my  good  knights,  I  shall  soon  make  an  end 
of  this  war."  "Come  forth,"  said  Arthur,  "if  thou  darest, 
and  I  promise  thee  I  shall  meet  thee  in  the  midst  of  the  field." 
"  God  forbid  me,"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "  that  I  should  encounter 
with  the  most  noble  king  that  made  me  knight."  "  Fie  upon 
thy  fair  language,"  said  the  king,  "  for  know  thou  well  that  I 
am  thy  mortal  foe,  and  ever  will  be  to  my  dying  day."  And 
Sir  Gawain  said,  "What  cause  hadst  thou  to  slay  my  brother, 
Sir  Gaheris,  who  bore  no  arms  against  thee,  and  Sir  Gareth, 
whom  thou  madest  knight,  and  who  loved  thee  more  than  all 
my  kin  ?  Therefore  know  thou  well  I  shall  make  war  to  thee 
all  the  while  that  I  may  live." 

When  Sir  Bohort,  Sir  Hector  de  Marys,  and  Sir  Lionel  heard 
tuis  outcry  they  called  to  them  Sir  Palamedes,  and  Sir  Saffire 
his  brother,  and  Sir  Lawayn,  with  many  more,  and  all  went 
to  Sir  Launcelot.  And  they  said,  "  My  lord,  Sir  Launcelot,  we 
pray  you,  if  you  will  have  our  service,  keep  us  no  longer  within 
these  walls,  for  know  well  all  your  fair  speech  and  forbearance 
will  not  avail  you."  "Alas!"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "to  ride 
forth  and  to  do  battle  I  am  full  loath."  Then  he  spake  again 
unto  the  king  and  Sir  Gawain,  and  willed  them  to  keep  out  of 
the  battle;  but  they  despised  his  words.  So  then  Sir  Launce- 
lot's  fellowship  came  out  of  the  castle  in  full  good  array.  And 
always  Sir  Launcelot  charged  all  his  knights,  in  any  wise,  to 
save  King  Arthur  and  Sir  Gawain. 

Then  came  forth  Sir  Gawain  from  the  king's  host,  and  offered 
combat,  and  Sir  Lionel  encountered  with  him,  and  there  Sir 
Gawain  smote  Sir  Lionel  through  the  body,  that  he  fell  to  the 
earth  as  if  dead.  Then  there  began  a  great  conflict,  and  much 


178  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

people  were  slain  ;  but  ever  Sir  Launcelot  did  what  he  might  to 
save  the  people  on  King  Arthur's  party,  and  ever  King  Arthur 
followed  Sir  Launcelot  to  slay  him ;  but  Sir  Launcelot  suffered 
him,  and  would  not  strike  again.  Then  Sir  Bohort  encountered 
with  King  Arthur,  and  smote  him  down  ;  and  he  alighted  and 
drew  his  sword,  and  said  to  Sir  Launcelot,  "Shall  I  make  an 
end  of  this  war?"  for  he  meant  to  have  slain  King  Arthur. 
"Not  so,"  said.  Sir  Launcelot,  "touch  him  no  more,  for  I  will 
never  see  that  most  noble  king  that  made  me  knight  either 
slain  or  shamed  ;"  and  therewith  Sir  Launcelot  alighted  off  his 
horse  and  took  up  the  king,  and  horsed  him  again,  and  said 
thus :  "  My  lord  Arthur,  for  God's  love,  cease  this  strife."  And 
King  Arthur  looked  upon  Sir  Launcelot,  and  the  tears  burst 
from  his  eyes,  thinking  on  the  great  courtesy  that  was  in  Sir 
Launcelot  more  than  in  any  other  man  ;  and  therewith  the 
king  rode  his  way.  Then  anon  both  parties  withdrew  to  repose 
them,  and  buried  the  dead. 

But  the  war  continued,  and  it  was  noised  abroad  through  all 
Christendom,  and  at  last  it  was  told  afore  the  pope ;  and  he, 
considering  the  great  goodness  of  King  Arthur,  and  of  Sir 
Launcelot,  called  unto  him  a  noble  clerk,  which  was  the  Bishop 
of  Rochester,  who  was  then  in  his  dominions,  and  sent  him  to 
King  Arthur,  charging  him  that  he  take  his  queen,  dame 
Guenever,  unto  him  again,  and  make  peace  with  Sir  Launcelot. 

So,  by  means  of  this  bishop,  peace  was  made  for  the  space  of 
one  year;  and  King  Arthur  received  back  the  queen,  and  Sir 
Launcelot  departed  from  the  kingdom  with  all  his  knights,  and 
went  to  his  own  country.  So  they  shipped  at  Cardiff,  and 
sailed  unto  Ben  wick,  which  some  men  call  Bayonne.  And  all 
the  people  of  those  lands  came  to  Sir  Launcelot,  and  received 
him  home  right  joyfully.  And  Sir  Launcelot  stablished  and 
garnished  all  his  towns  and  castles,  and  he  greatly  advanced  all 
his  noble  knights,  Sir  Lionel  and  Sir  Bohort,  and  Sir  Hector  de 
Marys,  Sir  Blamor,  Sir  Lawayne,  and  many  others,  and  made 
them  lords  of  lands  and  castles ;  till  he  left  himself  no  more 
than  any  one  of  them. 

But  when  the  year  was  passed,  King  Arthur  and  Sir  Gawain 
came  with  a  great  host,  and  landed  upon  Sir  Launcelot's  lands, 


SIR  AGUIVAIN'S  TREASON.  179 

and  burnt  and  wasted  all  that  they  might  overrun.  Then  spake 
Sir  Bohort  and  said,  "  My  lord,  Sir  Launcelot,  give  us  leave  to 
meet  them  in  the  field,  and  we  shall  make  them  rue  the  time 
that  ever  they  came  to  this  country."  Then  said  Sir  Launce 
lot,  "I  am  full  loath  to  ride  out  with  my  knights  for  shedding 
of  Christian  blood ;  so  we  will  yet  awhile  keep  our  walls,  and  I 
will  send  a  messenger  unto  my  lord  Arthur,  to  propose  a  treaty ; 
for  better  is  peace  than  always  war."  So  Sir  Launcelot  sent 
forth  a  damsel,  and  a  dwarf  with  her,  requiring  King  Arthur  to 
leave  his  warring  upon  his  lands ;  and  so  she  started  on  a  pal 
frey,  and  the  dwarf  ran  by  her  side.  And  when  she  came  to 
the  pavilion  of  King  Arthur,  she  alighted,  and  there  met  her  a 
gentle  knight,  Sir  Lucan  the  butler,  and  said,  "  Fair  damsel, 
come  ye  from  Sir  Launcelot  du  Lac?"  "Yea,  sir,"  she  said, 
"  I  come  hither  to  speak  with  the  king."  "  Alas ! "  said  Sir 
Lucan,  "  my  lord  Arthur  would  be  reconciled  to  Sir  Launcelot, 
but  Sir  Gawain  will  not  suffer  him."  And  with  this  Sir  Lucan 
led  the  damsel  to  the  king,  where  he  sat  with  Sir  Gawain,  to 
hear  what  she  would  say.  So  when  she  had  told  her  tale,  the 
tears  ran  out  of  the  king's  eyes  ;  and  all  the  lords  were  forward 
to  advise  the  king  to  be  accorded  with  Sir  Launcelot,  save  only 
Sir  Gawain  ;  and  he  said,  "My  lord,  mine  uncle,  what  will  ye 
do?  Will  you  now  turn  back,  now  you  are  so  far  advanced 
upon  your  journey?  If  ye  do,  all  the  world  will  speak  shame 
of  you."  "Nay,"  said  King  Arthur,  "I  will  do  as  ye  advise 
me;  but  do  thou  give  the  damsel  her  answer,  for  I  may  not 
speak  to  her  for  pity." 

Then  said  Sir  Gawain,  "  Damsel,  say  ye  to  Sir  Launcelot,  that 
it  is  waste  labor  to  sue  to  mine  uncle  for  peace,  and  say  that  I, 
Sir  Gawain,  send  him  word  that  I  promise  him,  by  the  faith  I 
owe  unto  God  and  to  knighthood,  I  shall  never  leave  him  till 
he  have  slain  me  or  I  him."  So  the  damsel  returned ;  and  when 
Sir  Launcelot  had  heard  this  answer,  the  tears  ran  down  his 
cheeks. 

Then  it  befell  on  a  day  Sir  Gawain  came  before  the  gates, 
armed  at  all  points,  and  cried  with  a  loud  voice,  "Where  art 
thou  now,  thou  false  traitor,  Sir  Launcelot?  Why  hidest  thou 
thyself  within  holes  and  walls  like  a  coward?  Look  out  now, 


180  KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

thou  traitor  knight,  and  I  will  avenge  upon  thy  body  the  death 
of  my  three  brethren."  All  this  language  heard  Sir  Launcelot, 
and  the  knights  which  were  about  him ;  and  they  said  to  him, 
"  Sir  Launcelot,  now  must  ye  defend  you  like  a  knight,  or  else 
be  shamed  for  ever,  for  you  have  slept  overlong  and  suffered 
overmuch."  Then  Sir  Launcelot  spake  on  high  unto  King  Ar 
thur,  and  said,  "  My  lord  Arthur,  now  I  have  forborne  long, 
and  suffered  you  and  Sir  Gawain  to  do  what  ye  would,  and  now 
must  I  needs  defend  myself,  inasmuch  as  Sir  Gawain  hath  ap 
pealed  me  of  treason."  Then  Sir  Launcelot  armed  him  and 
mounted  upon  his  horse,  and  the  noble  knights  came  out  of  the 
city,  and  the  host  without  stood  all  apart ;  and  so  the  cove 
nant  was  made  that  no  man  should  come  near  the  two  knights, 
nor  deal  with  them,  till  one  were  dead  or  yielded. 

Then  Sir  Gawain  and  Sir  Launcelot  departed  a  great  way 
in  sunder,  and  then  they  came  together  writh  all  their  horses' 
might  as  they  might  run,  and  either  smote  the  other  in  the 
midst  of  their  shields,  but  the  knights  were  so  strong,  and  their 
spears  so  big,  that  their  horses  might  not  endure  their  buffets, 
and  so  the  horses  fell  to  the  earth.  And  then  they  avoided 
their  horses,  and  dressed  their  shields  afore  them.  Then  they 
stood  together,  and  gave  many  sad  strokes  on  divers  places  of 
their  bodies,  that  the  blood  burst  out  on  many  sides  and  places. 
Then  had  Sir  Gawain  such  a  grace  and  gift  that  an  holy  man 
had  given  to  him,  that  every  day  in  the  year,  from  morning 
till  high  noon,  his  might  increased  those  three  hours,  as  much 
as  thrice  his  strength,  and  that  caused  Sir  Gawain  to  win 
great  honor.  And  for  his  sake  King  Arthur  made  an  ordi 
nance  that  all  manner  of  battles  for  any  quarrels  that  should 
be  done  before  King  Arthur  should  begin  at  Underlie,*  and  all 
was  done  for  Sir  Gawain's  love,  that  by  likelihood  if  that  Sir 
Gawain  were  on  the  one  part  he  should  have  the  better  in 
battle,  wbilst  his  strength  endured  three  hours,  but  there  were 
few  knights  that  time  living  that  knew  this  advantage  that 
Sir  Gawain  had,  but  King  Arthur  only.  Thus  Sir  Launcelot 
fought  with  Sir  Gawain,  and  when  Sir  Launcelot  felt  his  might 
evermore  increase,  Sir  Launcelot  wondered  and  dread  him  sore 

*  Underne.     The  third  hour  in  the  day,  nine  o'clock. 


SIR  AGRIVAIN'S  TREASON.  181 

to  be  ashamed.  For  Sir  Launcelot  thought  when  he  felt  Sir 
Gavvain  double  his  strength,  that  he  had  been  a  fiend,  and  no 
earthly  man ;  wherefore  Sir  Launcelot  traced  and  traversed, 
and  covered  himself  with  his  shield,  and  kept  his  might  and 
his  braid  during  three  hours;  and  that  while  Sir  Gawain  gave 
him  many  sad  brunts  and  many  sad  strokes,  that  all  the  knights 
that  beheld  Sir  Launcelot  marvelled  how  he  might  endure  him, 
but  full  little  understood  they  that  travail  that  Sir  Launcelot 
had  for  to  endure  him.  And  then  when  it  was  past  noon  Sir 
Gawain  had  no  more  but  his  own  might.  Then  Sir  Launcelot 
felt  him  so  come  down;  then  he  stretched  him  up,  and  stood 
near  Sir  Gawain,  and  said  thus :  "  My  lord  Sir  Gawain,  now  I 
fear  ye  have  done ;  now  my  lord  Sir  Gawain,  I  must  do  my 
part,  for  many  great  and  grievous  strokes  I  have  endured  you 
this  day  with  great  pain."  Then  Sir  Launcelot  doubled  his 
strokes,  and  gave  Sir  Gawain  such  a  buffet  on  the  helmet  that 
he  fell  down  on  his  side,  and  Sir  Launcelot  withdrew  from 
him.  "Why  turnest  thou  thee?"  said  Sir  Gawain;  "now 
turn  again,  false  traitor  knight,  and  slay  me ;  for  an  thou  leave 
me  thus,  when  I  am  whole,  I  shall  do  battle  with  thee  again." 
"  I  shall  endure  you,  sir,  by  God's  grace,  but  wit  thou  well,  Sir 
Gawain,  I  will  never  smite  a  felled  knight."  And  so  Sir 
Launcelot  went  into  the  city,  and  Sir  Gawain  was  borne  into 
one  of  King  Arthur's  pavilions,  and  leeches  were  brought  to 
him,  and  he  was  searched  and  salved  with  soft  ointments. 
And  then  Sir  Launcelot  said,  "  Now  have  good  day,  my  lord 
the  king,  for,  wit  you  well,  ye  win  no  worship  at  these  walls ; 
and  if  I  would  my  knights  out  bring,  there  should  many  a 
man  die.  Therefore,  my  lord  Arthur,  remember  you  of  old 
kindness,  and  however  I  fare,  Jesus  be  your  guide  in  all 
places." 

Thus  the  siege  endured,  and  Sir  Gawain  lay  helpless  near  a 
month  ;  and  when  he  was  near  recovered,  came  tidings  unto 
King  Arthur  that  made  him  return  with  all  his  host  to 
England. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


MORTE     D  '  A  R  T  H  U  R . 

"  And  now  the  whole  ROUND  TABLE  is  dissolved, 
Which  was  an  image  of  the  mighty  world, 
And  I,  the  last,  go  forth  companionless ; 
And  the  days  darken  round  me,  and  the  years 
Among  new  men,  strange  faces,  other  minds."  —  TENNYSOX. 

SIR  MODRED  was  left  ruler  of  all  England,  and  he 
caused  letters  to  be  written,  as  if  from  beyond  sea,  that 
King  Arthur  was  slain  in  battle.  So  he  called  a  Parliament, 
and  made  himself  be  crowned  king;  and  he  took  the  queen, 
Guenever,  and  said  plainly  that  he  would  wed  her,  but  she 
escaped  from  him,  and  took  refuge  in  the  Tower  of  London. 
And  Sir  Mod  red  went  and  laid  siege  about  the  Tower  of 
London,  and  made  great  assaults  thereat,  but  all  might  not 
avail  him.  Then  came  word  to  Sir  Modred  that  King  Arthur 
had  raised  the  siege  of  Sir  Launcelot,  and  was  coming  home. 
Then  Sir  Modred  summoned  all  the  barony  of  the  land ;  and 
much  people  drew  unto  Sir  Modred,  and  said  they  would 
abide  with  him  for  better  and  for  worse ;  and  he  drew  a  great 
182 


MORTE    D'  ARTHUR. 


host  to  Dover,  for  there  he  heard  say  that  King  Arthur  would 
arrive. 

And  as  Sir  Modred  was  at  Dover  with  his  host,  came  King 
Arthur,  with  a  great  number  of  ships  and  galleys,  and  there 
was  Sir  Modred  awaiting-wpon  the  landing.  Then  was  there 
launching  of  great  boats  and  small,  full  of  noble  men  of  arms, 
and  there  was  much  slaughter  of  gentle  knights  on  both  parts. 
But  King  Arthur  was  so  courageous,  there  might  no  manner  of 
knights  prevent  him  to  land,  and  his  knights  fiercely  followed 
him  ;  and  so  they  landed,  and  put  Sir  Modred  aback  so  that 
he  fled,  and  all  his  people.  And  when  the  battle  was  done, 
King  Arthur  commanded  to  bury  his  people  that  were  dead. 
And  then  was  noble  Sir  Gawain  found,  in  a  great  boat,  lying 
more  than  half  dead.  And  King  Arthur  went  to  him,  and 
made  sorrow  out  of  measure.  "Mine  uncle,"  said  Sir  Gawain, 
"know  thou  well  my  death-day  is  come,  and  all  is  through 
mine  own  hastiness  and  wilfulness,  for  I  am  smitten  upon  the 
old  wound  which  Sir  Launcelot  gave  me,  of  the  which  I  feel  I 
must  die.  And  had  Sir  Launcelot  been  with  you  as  of  old, 
this  war  had  never  begun,  and  of  all  this  I  am  the  cause." 
Then  Sir  Gawain  prayed  the  king  to  send  for  Sir  Launcelot, 
and  to  cherish  him  above  all  other  knights.  And  so,  at  the 
hour  of  noon,  Sir  Gawain  yielded  up  his  spirit,  and  then  the 
king  bade  inter  him  in  a  chapel  within  Dover  Castle;  and 
there  all  men  may  see  the  skull  of  him,  and  the  same  wound 
is  seen  that  Sir  Launcelot  gave  him  in  battle. 

Then  was  it  told  the  king  that  Sir  Modred  had  pitched  his 
camp  upon  Barrendown  ;  and  the  king  rode  thither,  and 
there  was  a  great  battle  betwixt  them,  and  King  Arthur's 
party  stood  best,  and  Sir  Modred  and  his  party  fled  unto 
Canterbury. 

And  there  was  a  day  assigned  betwixt  King  Arthur  and  Sir 
Modred  that  they  should  meet  upon  a  down  beside  Salisbury, 
and  not  far  from  the  seaside,  to  do  battle  yet  again.  And  at 
night,  as  the  king  slept,  he  dreamed  a  wonderful  dream.  It 
seemed  him  verily  that  there  came  Sir  Gawain  unto  him,  with 
a  number  of  fair  ladies  with  him.  And  when  King  Arthur 
saw  him,  he  said,  "Welcome,  my  sister's  son;  I  weened  thou 


184  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

hadst  been  dead  ;  and  now  I  see  thee  alive,  great  is  my  joy. 
But,  O  fair  nephew,  what  be  these  ladies  that  hither  be  come 
with  you?  "  "  Sir,"  said  Sir  Gawain,  "  all  these  be  ladies  for 
whom  I  have  fought  when  I  was  a  living  man  ;  and  because  I 
did  battle  for  them  in  righteous  quarrel,  they  have  given  me 
grace  to  bring  me  hither  unto  you,  to  warn  you  of  your 
death,  if  ye  fight  to-morrow  with  Sir  Modred.  Therefore 
take  ye  treaty,  and  proffer  you  largely  for  a  month's  delay ; 
for  within  a  month  shall  come  Sir  Launcelot  and  all  his  noble 
knights,  and  rescue  you  worshipfully,  and  slay  Sir  Modred  and 
all  that  hold  with  him."  And  then  Sir  Gawain  and  all  the 
ladies  vanished.  And  anon  the  king  called  to  fetch  his  noble 
lords  and  wise  bishops  unto  him.  And  when  they  were  come, 
the  king  told  them  his  vision,  and  what  Sir  Gawain  had  told 
him.  Then  the  king  sent  Sir  Lucan  the  butler,  and  Sir  Bedi- 
vere,  with  two  bishops,  and  charged  them  in  any  wise  to  take 
a  treaty  for  a  month  and  a  day  with  Sir  Modred.  So  they 
departed,  and  came  to  Sir  Modred ;  and  so,  at  the  last,  Sir 
Modred  was  agreed  to  have  Cornwall  and  Kent,  during  Ar 
thur's  life,  and  all  England  after  his  death. 

Then  was  it  agreed  that  King  Arthur  and  Sir  Modred 
should  meet  betwixt  both  their  hosts,  and  each  of  them  should 
bring  fourteen  persons,  and  then  and  there  they  should  sign 
the  treaty.  And  when  King  Arthur  and  his  knights  were  pre 
pared  to  go  forth,  he  warned  all  his  host,  "If  so  be  ye  see  any 
sword  drawn,  look  ye  come  on  fiercely,  and  slay  whomsoever 
withstandeth,  for  I  in  no  wise  trust  that  traitor,  Sir  Modred." 
In  likewise  Sir  Modred  warned  his  host.  So  they  met,  and 
were  agreed  and  accorded  thoroughly.  And  wine  was  brought, 
and  they  drank.  Right  then  came  an  adder  out  of  a  little 
heath-bush,  and  stung  a  knight  on  the  foot.  And  when  the 
knight  felt  him  sting,  he  looked  down  and  saw  the  adder,  and 
then  he  drew  his  sword  to  slay  the  adder,  and  thought  of  no 
other  harm.  And  when  the  host  on  both  sides  saw  that  sword 
drawn,  they  blew  trumpets  and  horns,  and  shouted  greatly. 
And  King  Arthur  took  his  horse,  and  rode  to  his  party,  saying, 
"Alas,  this  unhappy  day  !  "  And  Sir  Modred  did  in  like  wise. 
And  never  was  there  a  more  doleful  battle  in  Christian  land. 


MORTE  D'ARTHUR.  185 

And  ever  King  Arthur  rode  throughout  the  battle,  and  did 
full  nobly,  as  a  worthy  king  should,  and  Sir  Modred  that  day 
did  his  devoir,  and  put  himself  in  great  peril.  And  thus  they 
fought  all  the  long  day,  till  the  most  of  all  the  noble  knights 
lay  dead  upon  the  groundv  Then  the  king  looked  about  him, 
and  saw  of  all  his  host  were  left  alive  but  two  knights,  Sir 
Lucan  the  butler,  and  Sir  Bedivere  his  brother,  and  they  were 
full  sore  wounded. 

Then  King  Arthur  saw  where  Sir  Modred  leaned  upon  his 
sword  among  a  great  heap  of  dead  men.  "Now  give  me  my 
spear,"  said  Arthur  unto  Sir  Lucan,  "for  yonder  I  espy  the  trai 
tor  that  hath  wrought  all  this  woe."  "  Sir,  let  him  be,"  said  Sir 
Lucan  ;  "  for  if  ye  pass  this  unhappy  day  ye  shall  be  right  well 
revenged  upon  him.  Remember  what  the  sprite  of  Sir  Gawain 
told  you,  and  leave  off  now,  for  ye  have  won  the  field  ;  and  if 
ye  leave  off  now  this  evil  day  of  destiny  is  past."  "  Betide 
me  life,  betide  me  death,"  said  King  Arthur,  "he  shall  not 
now  escape  my  hands."  Then  the  king  took  his  spear  in  both 
hands,  and  ran  toward  Sir  Modred,  crying,  "  Traitor,  now  is 
thy  death-day  come."  And  there  King  Arthur  smote  Sir 
Modred  under  the  shield,  with  a  thrust  of  his  spear  through 
the  body.  And  when  Sir  Modred  felt  that  he  had  his  death- 
wound,  with  the  might  that  he  had  he  smote  King  Arthur,  with 
his  sword  holden  in  both  his  hands,  on  the  side  of  the  head, 
that  the  sword  pierced  the  helmet  and  the  brain-pan  ;  and  then 
Sir  Modred  fell  stark  dead  upon  the  earth.  And  the  noble 
Arthur  fell  in  a  swoon  to  the  earth.  And  Sir  Lucan  the  but 
ler  and  Sir  Bedivere  raised  him  up,  and  gently  led  him  be 
twixt  them  both  to  a  little  chapel  not  far  from  the  seaside.  And 
when  the  king  was  there  he  thought  him  well  eased.  Then 
heard  they  people  cry  in  the  field.  And  Sir  Lucan  went  to  see 
what  that  cry  betokened ;  and  he  saw  by  the  moonlight  that 
pillers*  and  robbers  were  come  to  rob  the  dead.  And  he  re 
turned,  and  said  to  the  king,  "By  rny  rede,  it  is  best  that  we 
bring  you  to  some  town."  "  I  would  it  were  so,"  said  the 
king.  And  when  the  king  tried  to  go  he  fainted.  Then  Sir 
Lucan  took  up  the  king  on  the  one  part,  and  Sir  Bedivere  on 

*  Plunderers  :  the  word  is  not  now  used. 


186  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KXIGHTS. 

the  other  part ;  and  in  the  lifting  Sir  Lucan  fell  in  a  swoon  to 
the  earth,  for  lie  was  grievously  wounded.  And  then  the 
noble  knight's  heart  burst.  And  when  the  king  awoke  he  be 
held  Sir  Lucan,  how  he  lay  foaming  at  the  mouth,  and  speech 
less.  "Alas ! "  said  the  king,  "  this  is  to  me  a  full  heavy  sight, 
to  see  this  noble  duke  so  die  for  my  sake ;  for  he  would  have 
holpen  me  that  had  more  need  of  help  than  I,  and  lie  would 
not  complain,  his  heart  was  so  set  to  help  me."  Then  Sir  Bedi- 
vere  wept  for  his  brother.  "  Leave  this  mourning  and  weep 
ing,"  said  the  king,  "for  wit  thou  well,  if  I  might  live  myself, 
the  death  of  Sir  Lucan  would  grieve  me  evermore ;  but  my  time 
hieth  fast.  Therefore,"  said  Arthur  unto  Sir  Bediverc,  "take 
thou  Excalibar,  my  good  sword,  and  go  with  it  to  yonder  water 
side  ;  and  when  thou  comest  there  I  charge  thee  throw  my 
sword  in  that  water,  and  come  again  and  tell  me  what  thou 
there  seest."  "My  lord,"  said  Sir  Bedivere,  "  your  command 
ment  shall  be  done."  So  Sir  Bedivere  departed,  and  by  the 
way  he  beheld  that  noble  sword,  that  the  pommel  and  the  haft 
were  all  of  precious  stones ;  and  then  he  said  to  himself,  "  If  I 
throw  this  rich  sword  into  the  water  no  good  shall  come 
thereof,  but  only  harm  and  loss."  And  then  Sir  Bedivere 
hid  Excalibar  under  a  tree.  And  so,  as  soon  as  he  might,  he 
oame  again  unto  the  king.  "  What  sawest  thou  there  ?  "  said 
the  king.  "Sir,"  he  said,  "I  saw  nothing."  "Alas!  thou  hast 
deceived  me,"  said  the  king.  "  Go  thou  lightly  again,  and  as  thou 
love  me,  spare  not  to  throw  it  in."  Then  Sir  Bedivere  went 
again,  and  took  the  sword  in  his  hand  to  throw  it ;  but  again 
it  beseemed  him  but  sin  and  shame  to  throw  away  that  noble 
sword,  and  he  hid  it  away  again,  and  returned,  and  told  the 
king  he  had  done  his  commandment.  "  What  sawest  thou 
there?"  said  the  king.  "Sir,"  he  said,  "I  saw  nothing  but 
waters  deep  and  waves  wan."  "Ah,  traitor  untrue ! "  said 
King  Arthur,  "  now  hast  thou  betrayed  me  twice.  And  yet 
thou  art  named  a  noble  knight,  and  hast  been  lief  and  dear  to 
me.  But  now  go  again,  and  do  as  I  bid  thee,  for  thy  lono;  tar 
rying  putteth  me  in  jeopardy  of  my  life."  Then  Sir  Bedi 
vere  went  to  the  sword,  and  lightly  took  it  up,  and  went  to  the 
water-side,  and  he  bound  the  girdle  about  the  hilt,  and  then  he 


MORTE    D' ARTHUR.  187 

threw  the  sword  as  far  into  the  water  as  he  might.  And  there 
came  an  arm  and  a  hand  out  of  the  water  and  met  it,  and 
caught  it,  and  shook  it  thrice  and  brandished  it,  and  then  van 
ished  away  the.hand  with  the  sword  in  the  water. 

Then  Sir  Bedivere  canVe  again  to  the  king,  and  told  him 
what  he  saw.  "Help  me  hence,"  said  the  king,  "for  I  fear  I 
have  tarried  too  long."  Then  Sir  Bedivere  took  the  king  on 
his  back,  and  so  went  with  him  to  that  water-side;  and  when 
they  came  there,  even  fast  by  the  bank  there  rode  a  little  barge 
with  many  fair  ladies  in  it,  and  among  them  was  a  queen  ;  and 
all  had  black  hoods,  and  they  wept  and  shrieked  when  they 
saw  King  Arthur. 

"  Now  put  me  in  the  barge,"  said  the  king.  And  there  re 
ceived  him  three  queens  with  great  mourning,  and  in  one  of 
their  laps  King  Arthur  laid  his  head.  And  the  queen  said, 
"Ah,  dear  brother,  why  have  ye  tarried  so  long?  Alas!  this 
wound  on  your  head  hath' caught  overmuch  cold."  And  then 
they  rowed  from  the  land,  and  Sir  Bedivere  beheld  them  go 
from  him.  Then  he  cried  :  "Ah,  my  lord  Arthur,  will  ye  leave 
me  here  alone  among  mine  enemies  ?  "  "  Comfort  thyself,"  said 
the  king,  "  for  in  me  is  no  further  help ;  for  I  will  to  the  Isle  of 
Avalon,  to  heal  me  of  my  grievous  wound."  And  as  soon  as 
Sir  Bedivere  had  lost  sight  of  the  barge  he  wept  and  wailed ; 
then  he  took  the  forest,  and  went  all  that  night,  and  in  the 
morning  he  was  ware  of  a  chapel  and  a  hermitage. 

Then  went  Sir  Bedivere  thither  ;  and  when  he  came  into  the 
chapel  he  saw  where  lay  an  hermit  on  the  ground,  near  a  tomb 
that  was  newly  graven.  "  Sir,"  said  Sir  Bedivere,  "  what  man 
is  there  buried  that  ye  pray  so  near  unto  ?"  "  Fair  son,"  said 
the  hermit,  "  I  know  not  verily.  But  this  night  there  came  a 
number  of  ladies,  and  brought  hither  one  dead,  and  prayed  me  to 
bury  him."  "Alas  ! "  said  Sir  Bedivere,  "  that  was  my  lord,  King 
Arthur."  Then  Sir  Bedivere  swooned ;  and  when  he  awoke 
he  prayed  the  hermit  he  might  abide  with  him,  to  live  with 
fasting  and  prayers.  "  Ye  are  welcome,"  said  the  hermit.  So 
there  bode  Sir  Bedivere  with  the  hermit ;  and  he  put  on  poor 
clothes,  and  served  the  hermit  full  lowly  in  fasting  and  in 
prayers. 


188  KING    ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

Thus  Ox  Arthur  I  find  never  more  written  in  books  that  be 
authorized,  nor  more  of  the  very  certainty  of  his  death ;  but 
thus  was  he  led  away  in  a  ship,  wherein  were  three  queens  ; 
the  one  was  King  Arthur's  sister,  Queen  Morgane  le  Fay;  the 
other  was  Viviane,  the  Lady  of  the  Lake ;  and  the  third  was 
the  queen  of  North  Galis.  And  this  tale  Sir  Bedivere,  knight 
of  the  Table  Round,  made  to  be  written. 

Yet  some  men  say  that  King  Arthur  is  not  dead,  but  hid 
away  into  another  place,  and  men  say  that  he  shall  come  again 
and  reign  over  England.  But  many  say  that  there  is  written  on 
his  tomb  this  verse  :  — 

"  Hie  jacet  Arthurus,  Rex  quondam,  Rexque  futurus" 
Here  Arthur  lies,  King  once  and  King  to  be. 

And  when  Queen  Guenever  understood  that  King  Arthur 
was  slain,  and  all  the  noble  knights  with  him,  she  stole  away, 
and  five  ladies  with  her;  and  so  she  went  to  Almesbury,  and 
made  herself  a  nun,  and  ware  white  clothes  and  black,  and 
took  great  penance  as  ever  did  sinful  lady,  and  lived  in  fast 
ing,  prayers,  and  alms-deeds.  And  there  she  was  abbess  and 
ruler  of  the  nuns.  Now  turn  we  from  her,  and  speak  of  Sir 
Launcelot  of  the  Lake. 

When  Sir  Launcelot  heard  in  his  country  that  Sir  Mod  red 
was  crowned  king  of  England  and  made  war  against  his  own 
uncle,  King  Arthur,  then  was  Sir  Launcelot  wroth  out  of  meas 
ure,  and  said  to  his  kinsmen  :  "Alas,  that  double  traitor,  Sir 
Modred !  now  it  repenteth  me  that  ever  he  escaped  out  of  my 
hands."  Then  Sir  Launcelot  and  his  fellows  made  ready  in 
all  haste,  with  ships  and  galleys,  to  pass  into  England  ;  and  so 
he  passed  over  till  he  came  to  Dover,  and  there  he  landed  with 
a  great  army.  Then  Sir  Launcelot  was  told  that  King  Arthur 
was  slain.  "Alas!"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "this  is  the  heaviest 
tidings  that  ever  came  to  me."  Then  he  called  the  kings, 
dukes,  barons,  and  knights,  and  said  thus:  "My  fair  lords,  I 
thank  you  all  for  coming  into  this  country  with  me,  but  we 
came  too  late,  and  that  shall  repent  me  while  I  live.  But  since 
it  is  so,"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "I  will  myself  ride  and  seek  my 
lady,  Queen  Guenever,  for  I  have  heard  say  she  hath  fled  into 
the  west ;  therefore  ye  shall  abide  me  here  fifteen  days,  and  if 


MORTE    D' ARTHUR.  189 

I  come  not  within  that  time,  then  take  your  ships  and  your 
host  and  depart  into  your  country." 

So  Sir  Launcelot  departed  and  rode  westerly,  and  there  he 
sought  many  days;  and  at  last  he  came  to  a  nunnery,  and  was 
seen  of  Queen  Guenever  ne  he  walked  in  the  cloister ;  and  when 
she  saw  him,  she  swooned  away.  And  when  she  might  speak, 
she  bade  him  to  be  called  to  her.  And  when  Sir  Launcelot 
was  brought  to  her,  she  said :  "  Sir  Launcelot,  I  require  thee 
and  beseech  thee,  for  all  the  love  that  ever  v/as  betwixt  us, 
that  tliou  never  see  me  more,  but  return  to  thy  kingdom  and 
take  thee  a  wife,  and  live  with  her  with  joy  and  bliss  ;  and 
pray  for  me  to  my  Lord,  that  I  may  get  my  soul's  health." 
"Nay,  madam,"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "wit  you  well  that  I  shall 
never  do ;  but  the  same  destiny  that  ye  have  taken  you  to  will 
I  take  me  unto,  for  to  please  and  serve  God."  And  so  they 
parted,  with  tears  and  much  lamentation ;  and  the  ladies  bare 
the  queen  to  her  chamber,  and  Sir  Launcelot  took  his  horse  and 
rode  away,  weeping. 

And  at  last  Sir  Launcelot  was  ware  of  a  hermitage  and 
a  chapel,  and  then  he  heard  a  little  bell  ring  to  mass ;  and 
thither  he  rode  and  alighted,  and  tied  his  horse  to  the  gate, 
and  heard  mass.  And  he  that  sang  the  mass  was  the  hermit 
with  whom  Sir  Bedivere  had  taken  up  his  abode  ;  and  Sir 
Bedivere  knew  Sir  Launcelot,  and  they  spake  together  after 
mass.  But  when  Sir  Bedivere  had  told  his  tale,  Sir  Launce- 
lot's  heart  almost  burst  for  sorrow.  Then  he  kneeled  down, 
and  prayed  the  hermit  to  shrive  him,  and  besought  that  he 
might  be  his  brother.  Then  the  hermit  said,  "  I  will  gladly; " 
and  then  he  put  a  habit  upon  Sir  Launcelot,  and  there  he 
served  God  day  and  night,  with  prayers  and  fastings. 

And  the  great  host  abode  at  Dover  till  the  end  of  the  fifteen 
days  set  by  Sir  Launcelot,  and  then  Sir  Bohort  made  them  to 
go  home  again  to  their  own  country ;  and  Sir  Bohort,  Sir 
Hector  de  Marys,  Sir  Blanor,  and  many  others,  took  on  them 
to  ride  through  all  England  to  seek  Sir  Launcelot.  So  Sir 
Bohort  by  fortune  rode  until  he  came  to  the  same  chapel  where 
Sir  Launcelot  was ;  and  when  he  saw  Sir  Launcelot  in  that 
manner  of  clothing,  he  prayed  the  hermit  that  he  might  be  in 


190  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

that  same.  And  so  there  was  an  habit  put  upon  him,  and 
there  he  lived  in  prayers  and  fasting.  And  within  half  a  year 
came  others  of  the  knights,  their  fellows,  and  took  such  a  habit 
as  Sir  Launcelot  and  Sir  Boliort  had.  Thus  they  endured  in 
great  penance  six  years. 

And  upon  a  night  there  came  a  vision  to  Sir  Launcelot,  and 
charged  him  to  haste  him  toward  Almesbury,  and  "  by  the- time 
thou  come  there,  thou  shalt  find  Queen  Guenever  dead."  Then 
Sir  Launcelot  rose  up  early,  and  told  the  hermit  thereof.  Then 
said  the  hermit,  "It  were  well  that  ye  disobey  not  this  vision." 
And  Sir  Launcelot  took  his  seven  companions  with  him,  and 
on  foot  they  went  from  Glastonbury  to  Almesbury,  which  is 
more  than  thirty  miles.  And  when  they  were  come  to  Almes 
bury,  they  found  that  Queen  Guenever  died  but  half  an  hour 
before.  Then  Sir  Launcelot  saw  her  visage,  but  he  wept  not 
greatly,  but  sighed.  And  so  he  did  all  the  observance  of  the 
service  himself,  both  the  "dirige  "  at  night,  and  at  morn  he 
sang  mass.  And  there  was  prepared  an  horse-bier,  and  Sir 
Launcelot  and  his  fellows  followed  the  bier  on  foot  from 
Almesbury  until  they  came  to  Glastonbury ;  and  she  was 
wrapped  in  cered  clothes,  and  laid  in  a  coffin  of  marble.  And 
when  she  was  put  in  the  earth,  Sir  Launcelot  swooned,  and  lay 
lon^-  as  one  dead. 

And  Sir  Launcelot  never  after  ate  but  little  meat,  nor 
drank;  but  continually  mourned.  And  within  six  weeks  Sir 
Launcelot  fell  sick ;  and  he  sent  for  the  hermit  and  all  his  true 
fellows,  and  said,  "  Sir  hermit,  I  pray  you  give  me  all  my 
rights  that  a  Christian  man  ought  to  have."  "It  shall  not 
need,"  said  the  hermit  and  all  his  fellows;  "it  is  but  heaviness 
of  your  blood,  and  to-morrow  morn  you  shall  be  well."  "My 
fair  lords,"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "  my  careful  body  will  into  the 
earth;  I  have  warning  more  than  now  I  will  say;  therefore 
give  me  my  rights."  So  when  he  was  houseled  and  aneled, 
and  had  all  that  a  Christian  man  ought  to  have,  he  prayed  the 
hermit  that  his  fellows  might  bear  his  body  to  Joyous  Garde. 
(Some  men  say  it  was  Alnwick,  and  some  say  it  was  Barn- 
borough.)  "It  repenteth  me  sore,"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "but  I 
made  a  vow  aforetime  that  in  Joyous  Garde  I  would  be 


191 

buried."  Then  there  was  weeping  and  wringing  of  hands 
among  his  fellows.  And  that  night  Sir  Launcelot  died  ;  and 
when  Sir  Bohort  and  his  fellows  came  to  his  bedside  the  next 
morning,  they  found  him  stark  dead  ;  and  he  lay  as  if  he  had 
smiled,  and  the  sweetest  savor  all  about  him  that  ever  they 
knew. 

And  they  put  Sir  Launcelot  into  the  same  horse-bier  that 
Queen  Guenever  was  laid  in,  and  the  hermit  and  they  all 
together  went  with  the  body  till  they  came  to  Joyous  Garde. 
And  there  they  laid  his  corpse  in  the  body  of  the  quire,  and 
sang  and  read  many  psalms  and  prayers  over  him.  And  ever 
his  visage  was  laid  open  and  naked,  that  all  folks  might  behold 
him.  And  right  thus,  as  they  were  at  their  service,  there  came 
Sir  Hector  de  Marys,  that  had  seven  years  sought  Sir  Launcelot 
his  brother,  through  all  England,  Scotland  and  Wales.  And 
when  Sir  Hector  heard  such  sounds  in  the  chapel  of  Joyous 
Garde,  he  alighted  and  came  into  the  quire.  And  all  they 
knew  Sir  Hector.  Then  went  Sir  Bohort,  and  told  him  how 
there  lay  Sir  Launcelot  his  brother,  dead.  Then  Sir  Hector 
threw  his  shield,  his  sword,  and  helm  from  him.  And  when  he 
beheld  Sir  Launcelot's  visage,  it  were  hard  for  any  tongue  to 
tell  the  doleful  complaints  he  made  for  his  brother.  "  Ah,  Sir 
Launcelot !  "  he  said,  "there  thou  liest.  And  now  I  dare  to  say 
thou  wert  never  matched  of  none  earthly  knight's  hand.  And 
thou  wert  the  courteousest  knight  that  ever  bare  shield  ;  arid 
thou  wert  the  truest  friend  to  thy  lover  that  ever  bestrode 
horse ;  and  thou  wert  the  truest  lover,  of  a  sinful  man,  that 
ever  loved  wroman ;  and  thou  wert  the  kindest  man  that  ever 
struck  with  sword.  And  thon  wert  the  goodliest  person  that 
ever  came  among  press  of  knights.  And  thou  wert  the  meekest 
man,  and  the  gentlest,  that  ever  ate  in  hall  among  ladies.  And 
thou  wert  the  sternest  knight  to  thy  mortal  foe  that  ever  put 
spear  in  the  rest."  Then  there  was  weeping  and  dolor  out  of 
measure.  Thus  they  kept  Sir  Launcelot's  corpse  fifteen  days, 
and  then  they  buried  it  with  great  devotion. 

Then  they  went  back  with  the  hermit  to  his  hermitage.  And 
Sir  Bedivere  was  there  ever  still  hermit  to  his  life's  end.  And 
Sir  Bohout,  Sir  Hector,  Sir  Blanor  and  Sir  Bleoberis  went 


192  KING   ARTHUR   AND   HIS    KNIGHTS. 

into  the  Holy  Land.  And  these  four  knights  did  many 
battles  upon  the  miscreants,  the  Turks ;  and  there  they  died 
upon  a  Good  Friday,  as  it  pleased  God. 

Thus  endeth  this  noble  and  joyous  book,  entitled  La  Morte 
d" Arthur  ;  notwithstanding  it  treateth  of  the  birth,  life  and  acts 
of  the  said  King  Arthur,  and  of  his  noble  Knights  of  the  Round 
Table,  their  marvellous  enquests  and  adventures,  the  achieving 
of  the  Sangreal,  and  in  the  end,  la  Morte  d'Arthur,  with  the 
dolorous  death  and  departing  out  of  this  world  of  them  all. 
Which  book  was  reduced  into  English  by  Sir  Thomas  Mallory, 
Knight,  and  divided  into  twenty-one  books,  chaptered  and  im 
printed  and  finished  in  the  Abbey  Westmestre,  the  last  day 
of  July,  the  year  of  our  Lord  MCCCCLXXXV. 

Caxton  me  fieri  fecit. 


THE  AGE    OF    CHIVALRY. 


PART    II. 
THE    MABINOGEOK 


THE    MABINOGEOK 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

THE    BKITONS. 

THE  earliest  inhabitants  of  Britain  are  supposed  to  have 
been  a  branch  of  that  great  family  known  in  history  by 
the  designation  of  Celts.  Cambria,  which  is  a  frequent  name 
for  Wales,  is  thought  to  be  derived  from  Cymri,  the  name 
which  the  Welsh  traditions  apply  to  an  immigrant  people  who 
entered  the  island  from  the  adjacent  continent.  This  name  is 
thought  to  be  identical  with  those  of  Cimmerians  and  Cimbri, 
under  which  the  Greek  and  Roman  historians  describe  a  bar 
barous  people,  who  spread  themselves  from  the  north  of  the 
Euxine  over  the  whole  of  Northwestern  Europe. 

The  origin  of  the  names  Wales  and  Wehh  has  been  much 
canvassed.  Some  writers  make  them  a  derivation  from  Gael 
or  Gaul,  which  names  are  said  to  signify  "  woodland ers;" 

195 


196  THE   MABINOGEON. 

others  observe  that  Walsh,  in  the  Northern  languages,  signifies 
a  stranger,  and  that  the  aboriginal  Britons  were  so  called  by 
those  who  at  a  later  era  invaded  the  island  and  possessed  the 
greater  part  of  it,  the  Saxons  and  Angles. 

The  Romans  held  Britain  from  the  invasion  of  Julius  Caesar 
till  their  voluntary  withdrawal  from  the  island,  A.D.  420, — that 
is,  about  five  hundred  years.  In  that  time  there  must  have 
been  a  wide  diffusion  of  their  arts  and  institutions  among  the 
natives.  The  remains  of  roads,  cities,  and  fortifications  show 
that  they  did  much  to  develop  and  improve  the  country, 
while  those  of  their  villas  and  castles  prove  that  many  of  the 
settlers  possessed  wealth  and  taste  for  the  ornamental  arts. 
Yet  the  Roman  sway  was  sustained  chiefly  by  force,  and  never 
extended  over  the  entire  island.  The  northern  portion,  now 
Scotland,  remained  independent,  and  the  western  portion,  con 
stituting  Wales  and  Cornwall,  was  only  nominally  subjected. 

Neither  did  the  later  invading  hordes  succeed  in  subduing 
the  remoter  sections  of  the  island.  For  ages  after  the  arrival 
of  the  Saxons  under  Hengist  and  Horsa,  A.D.  449,  the  whole 
western  coast  of  Britain  was  possessed  by  the  aboriginal 
inhabitants,  engaged  in  constant  warfare  with  the  invaders. 

It  has,  therefore,  been  a  favorite  boast  of  the  people  of 
Wales  and  Cornwall,  that  the  original  British  stock  flourishes 
in  its  unmixed  purity  only  among  them.  We  see  this  notion 
flashing  out  in  poetry  occasionally,  as  when  Gray,  in  "The 
Bard,"  prophetically  describing  Queen  Elizabeth,  who  was  of 
the  Tudor  a  Welsh  race,  says : 

"  Her  eye  proclaims  her  of  the  Briton  line  " ; 

and,  contrasting  the  princes  of  the  Tudor  with  those  of  the 
Norman  race,  he  exclaims : 

"  All  hail,  ye  genuine  kings,  Britannia's  issue,  hail !  " 

THE  WELSH  LANGUAGE  AND  LITERATURE. 

The  Welsh  language  is  one  of  the  oldest  in  Europe.  It 
possesses  poems  the  origin  of  which  is  referred  with  probabil 
ity  to  the  sixth  century.  The  language  of  some  of  these  is  so 


THE    BRITONS.  197 

antiquated,  that  the  best  scholars  differ  about  the  interpreta 
tion  of  many  passages ;  but,  generally  speaking,  the  body  of 
poetry  which  the  Welsh  possess,  from  the  year  1000  down 
wards,  is  intelligible  to  those  who  are  acquainted  with  the 
modern  language. 

Till  within  the  last  half-century  these  compositions  remained 
buried  in  the  libraries  of  colleges  or  of  individuals,  and  so  dif 
ficult  of  access  that  no  successful  attempt  was  made  to  give 
them  to  the  world.  This  reproach  was  removed,  after  ineffec 
tual  appeals  to  the  patriotism  of  the  gentry  of  Wales,  by 
Owen  Jones,  a  furrier  of  London,  who  at  his  own  expense  col 
lected  and  published  the  chief  productions  of  Welsh  literature, 
under  the  title  of  the  Myvyrian  Archeology  of  Wales.  In 
this  task  he  was  assisted  by  Dr.  Owen  and  other  Welsh 
scholars. 

After  the  cessation  of  Jones's  exertions,  the  old  apathy 
returned,  and  continued  till  within  a  few  years.  Dr.  Owen 
exerted  himself  to  obtain  support  for  the  publication  of  the 
Mabinogeon,  or  Prose  Tales  of  the  Welsh,  but  died  without 
accomplishing  his  purpose,  which  has  since  been  carried  into 
execution  by  Lady  Charlotte  Guest.  The  legends  which  fill 
the  remainder  of  this  volume  are  taken  from  this  work,  of 
which  we  have  already  spoken  more  fully  in  the  introductory 
chapter  to  the  First  Part. 

THE  WELSH  BARDS. 

The  authors  to  whom  the  oldest  Welsh  poems  are  attributed 
are  Aneurin,  who  is  supposed  to  have  lived  A.D.  500  to  550, 
and  Taliesin,  Llywarch  Hen  (Llywarch  the  Aged),  and  Myrd- 
din  or  Merlin,  who  were  a  few  years  later.  The  authenticity 
of  the  poems  which  bear  their  names  has  been  assailed,  and  it 
is  still  an  open  question  how  many  and  which  of  them  are 
authentic,  though  it  is  hardly  to  be  doubted  that  some  are  so. 
The  poem  of  Aneurin,  entitled  the  "Gododin,"  bears  very 
strong  marks  of  authenticity.  Aneurin  was  one  of  the  North 
ern  Britons  of  Strath-Clyde,  who  have  left  to  that  part  of  the 
district  they  inhabited  the  name  of  Cumberland,  or  Land  of 


198  THE    MABINOGEON. 

the  Cymri.  In  this  poem  he  laments  the  defeat  of  his  coun 
trymen  by  the  Saxons  at  the  battle  of  Cattraeth,  in  conse 
quence  of  having  partaken  too  freely  of  the  rnead  before  join 
ing  in  combat.  The  bard  himself  and  two  of  his  fellow- 
warriors  were  all  who  escaped  from  the  field.  A  portion  of 
this  poem  has  been  translated  by  Gray,  of  which  the  following 
is  an  extract :  — 

"To  Cattraeth's  vale,  in  glittering  row, 
Twice  two  hundred  warriors  go; 
Every  warrior's  manly  neck 
Chains  of  regal  honor  deck, 
Wreathed  in  many  a  golden  link ; 
From  the  golden  cup  they  drink 
Nectar  that  the  hees  produce, 
Or  the  grape's  exalted  juice. 
Flushed  with  mirth  and  hope  they  burn, 
But  none  to  Cattraeth's  vale  return, 
Save  Ae'ron  brave,  and  Conan  strong, 
Bursting  through  the  bloody  throng, 
And  I,  the  meanest  of  them  all, 
That  live  to  weep,  and  sing  their  fall." 

The  works  of  Taliesin  are  of  much  more  questionable  au 
thenticity.  There  is  a  story  of  the  adventures  of  Taliesin  so 
strongly  marked  with  mythical  traits  as  to  cast  suspicion  on  the 
writings  attributed  to  him.  This  story  will  be  found  in  the 
subsequent  pages. 

THE  TRIADS. 

The  Triads  are  a  peculiar  species  of  poetical  composition,  of 
which  the  Welsh  bards  have  left  numerous  examples.  They 
are  enumerations  of  a  triad  of  persons,  or  events,  or  observa 
tions,  strung  together  in  one  short  sentence.  This  form  of  com 
position,  originally  invented,  in  all  likelihood,  to  assist  the 
memory,  has  been  raised  by  the  Welsh  to  a  degree  of  ele 
gance  of  which  it  hardly  at  first  sight  appears  susceptible. 
The  Triads  are  of  all  ages,  some  of  them  probably  as  old  as 
anything  in  the  language.  Short  as  they  are  individually,  the 
collection  in  the  Myvyrian  Archaeology  occupies  more  than  one 
hundred  and  seventy  pages  of  double  columns.  We  will  give 


THE    BRITONS.  199 

some  specimens,  beginning  with  personal  triads,  and  giving  the 
first  place  to  one  of  King  Arthur's  own  composition :  — 

"  I  have  three  heroes  in  battle ; 
*  Mael  the  tall^and  Llyr,  with  his  army, 
And  Caradoc,vthe  pillar  of  Wales." 

"  The  three  principal  bards  of  the  island  of  Britain :  — 
Merlin  Ambrose 

Merlin  the  son  of  Morfyn,  called  also  Merlin  the  Wild, 
And  Taliesin,  the  chief  of  the  bards." 

11  The  three  golden-tongued  knights  of  the  Court  of  Arthur:  — 
Gawain,  son  of  Gwyar, 
Drydvas,  son  of  Tryphin, 
And  Eliwlod,  son  of  Madag,  ap  Uther." 

"  The  three  honorable  feasts  of  the  island  of  Britain :  — 
The  feast  of  Caswallaun,  after  repelling  Julius  Caesar  from  this  isle ; 
The  feast  of  Aurelius  Ambrosius,  after  he  had  conquered  the  Saxons  5 
And  the  feast  of  King  Arthur,  at  Caerleon  upon  Usk." 

"  Guenever,  the  daughter  of  Laodegan  the  giant, 
Bad  when  little,  worse  when  great." 

Next  follow  some  moral  triads  :  — 

"  Hast  thou  heard  what  Dremhidydd  sung, 
An  ancient  watchman  on  the  castle  walls  ? 
A  refusal  is  better  than  a  promise  unperformed." 

"  Hast  thou  heard  what  Llenleawg  sung, 
The  noble  chief  wearing  the  golden  torques  ? 
The  grave  is  better  than  a  life  of  want." 

"  Hast  thou  heard  what  Garselit  sung, 
The  Irishman  whom  it  is  safe  to  follow  ? 
Sin  is  bad,  if  long  pursued." 

"  Hast  thou  heard  what  Avaon  sung, 
The  son  of  Taliesin,  of  the  recording  verse  ? 
The  cheek  will  not  conceal  the  anguish  of  the  heart." 

"  Didst  thou  hear  what  Llywarch  sung, 
The  intrepid  and  brave  old  man  ? 
Greet  kindly,  though  there  be  no  acquaintance." 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE  LADY  OF  THE  FOUNTAIN. 

KYNON'S  ADVENTURE. 

KING  ARTHUR  was  at  Caerleon  upon  Usk ;  and  one  day 
he  sat  in  his  chamber,  and  with  him  were  Owain  the  son 
of  Urien,  and  Kynon  the  son  of  Clydno,  and  Kay  the  son  of 
Kyner,  and  Guenever  and  her  handmaidens  at  needlework  by 
the  window.  In  the  centre  of  the  chamber  King  Arthur  sat, 
upon  a  seat  of  green  rushes,*  over  which  was  spread  a  cover 
ing  of  flame-colored  satin,  and  a  cushion  of  red  satin  was  under 
his  elbow. 

Then  Arthur  spoke.  "  If  I  thought  you  would  not  disparage 
me,"  said  he,  "  I  would  sleep  while  I  wait  for  my  repast ;  and 
you  can  entertain  one  another  with  relating  tales,  and  can 
obtain  a  flagon  of  mead  and  some  meat  from  Kay."  And  the 

*  The  use  of  green  rushes  in  apartments  was  by  no  means  peculiar  to  the  court 
of  Caerleon  upon  Usk.  Our  ancestors  had  a  great  predilection  for  them,  and  they 
seem  to  have  constituted  an  essential  article,  not  only  of  comfort  but  of  luxury. 
The  custom  of  strewing  the  floor  with  rushes,  it  is  well  known,  existed  in  Eng 
land  dui'ing  the  Middle  Ages,  and  also  in  France. 
200 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  FOUNTAIN.  201 

king  went  to  sleep.  And  Kynon  the  son  of  Clydno  asked  Kay 
for  that  which  Arthur  had  promised  them.  "  I  too  will  have 
the  good  tale  which  he  promised  me,"  said  Kay.  "  Nay,"  an 
swered  Kynon;  "fairer  will  it  be  for  thee  to  fulfil  Arthur's 
behest  in  the  first  place,  an'cl  then  we  will  tell  thee  the  best  tale 
that  we  know."  So  Kay  went  to  the  kitchen  and  to  the  mead- 
cellar,  and  returned,  bearing  a  flagon  of  mead,  and  a  golden 
goblet,  and  a  handful  of  skewers,  upon  which  were  broiie  t 
collops  of  meat.  Then  they  ate  the  collops,  and  began  to 
drink  the  mead.  "Now,"  said  Kay,  "it  is  time  for  you 
to  give  me  my  story."  "Kynon,"  said  Owain,  "do  thou 
pay  to  Kay  the  tale  that  is  his  due."  "  I  will  do  so,"  answered 
Kynon. 

"  I  was  the  only  son  of  my  mother  and  father,  and  I  was 
exceedingly  aspiring,  and  my  daring  was  very  great .  I  thought 
there  was  no  enterprise  in  the  world  too  mighty  for  me ;  and 
after  I  had  achieved  all  the  "adventures  that  were  in  my  own 
country,  I  equipped  myself,  and  set  forth  to  journey  through 
deserts  and  distant  regions.  And  at  length  it  chanced  that  I 
came  to  the  fairest  valley  in  the  world,  wherein  were  trees  all 
of  equal  growth ;  and  a  river  ran  through  the  valley,  and  a 
path  was  by  the  side  of  the  river.  And  I  followed  the  path 
until  midday,  and  continued  my  journey  along  the  remainder 
of  the  valley  until  the  evening ;  and  at  the  extremity  of  a  plain 
I  came  to  a  large  and  lustrous  castle,  at  the  foot  of  which  was 
a  torrent.  And  I  approached  the  castle,  and  there  I  beheld 
two  youths  with  yellow  curling  hair,  each  with  a  frontlet  of 
gold  upon  his  head,  and  clad  in  a  garment  of  yellow  satin ;  and 
they  had  gold  clasps  upon  their  insteps.  In  the  hand  of  each 
of  them  was  an  ivory  bow,  strung  with  the  sinews  of  the  stag, 
and  their  arrows  and  their  shafts  were  of  the  bone  of  the 
whale,  and  were  winged  with  peacocks'  feathers.  The  shafts 
also  had  golden  heads.  And  they  had  daggers  with  blades  of 
gold,  and  with  hilts  of  the  bone  of  the  whale.  And  they  were 
shooting  at  a  mark. 

"  And  a  little  way  from  them  I  saw  a  man  in  the  prime  of 
life,  with  his  beard  newly  shorn,  clad  in  a  robe  and  mantle  of 
yellow  satin,  and  round  the  top  of  his  mantle  was  a  band  of 


202  THE   MABINOGEON. 

gold  lace.  On  his  feet  were  shoes  of  variegated  leather,* 
fastened  by  two  bosses  of  gold.  When  I  saw  him  I  went 
towards  him  and  saluted  him ;  and  such  was  his  courtesy,  that 
he  no  sooner  received  my  greeting  than  he  returned  it.  And 
he  went  with  me  towards  the  castle.  Now  there  were  no 
dwellers  in  the  castle,  except  those  who  were  in  one  hall.  And 
there  I  saw  four  and  twenty  damsels,  embroidering  satin  at  a 
window.  And  this  I  tell  thee,  Kay,  that  the  least  fair  of  them 
was  fairer  than  the  fairest  maid  thou  didst  ever  behold  in  the 
island  of  Britain ;  and  the  least  lovely  of  them  was  more  lovely 
than  Guenever,  the  wife  of  Arthur,  when  she  appeared  love 
liest,  at  the  feast  of  Easter.  They  rose  up  at  my  coming,  and 
six  of  them  took  my  horse,  and  divested  me  of  my  armor,  and 
six  others  took  my  arms,  and  washed  them  in  a  vessel  till  they 
were  perfectly  bright.  And  the  third  six  spread  cloths  upon 
the  tables,  and  prepared  meat.  And  the  fourth  six  took  off 
my  soiled  garments,  and  placed  others  upon  me,  namely,  an 
under  vest  and  a  doublet  of  fine  linen,  and  a  robe  and  a 
surcoat,  and  a  mantle  of  yellow  satin,  with  a  broad  gold  band 
upon  the  mantle.  And  they  placed  cushions  both  beneath  and 
around  me,  with  coverings  of  red  linen.  And  I  sat  down. 
Now  the  six  maidens  who  had  taken  my  horse  unharnessed 
him  as  well  as  if  they  had  been  the  best  squires  in  the  island 
of  Britain. 

"  Then  behold  they  brought  bowls  of  silver,  wherein  was 
water  to  wash,  and  towels  of  linen,  some  green  and  some 
white ;  and  I  washed.  And  in  a  little  while  the  man  sat  down 
at  the  table.  And  I  sat  next  to  him,  and  below  me  sat  all  the 
maidens,  except  those  who  waited  on  us.  And  the  table  was 
of  silver,  and  the  cloths  upon  the  table  were  of  linen.  And  no 
vessel  was  served  upon  the  table  that  was  not  either  of  gold  or 
of  silver  or  of  buffalo-horn.  And  our  meat  was  brought  to  us. 
And  verily,  Kay,  I  saw  there  every  sort  of  meat  and  every  sort 
of  liquor  that  I  ever  saw  elsewhere;  but  the  meat  and  the 

*  Cordwal  is  the  word  in  the  original,  and  from  the  manner  in  which  it  is  used 
it  is  evidently  intended  for  the  French  Cordouan  or  Cordovan  leather,  which 
derived  its  name  from  Cordova,  where  it  was  manufactured.  From  this  comes 
also  our  English  word  cordwainer. 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  FOUNTAIN.  203 

liquor  were  better  served  there  than  I  ever  saw  them  in  any 
other  place. 

"  Until  the  repast  was  half  over,  neither  the  man  nor  any 
one  of  the  damsels  spoke  a  single  word  to  me ;  but  when  the 
man  perceived  that  it  wquld  be  more  agreeable  for  me  to 
converse  than  to  eat  any  more,  he  began  to  inquire  of  me  who 
I  was.  Then  I  told  the  man  who  I  was,  and  what  was  the 
cause  of  my  journey,  and  said  that  I  was  seeking  whether  any 
one  was  superior  to  me,  or  whether  I  could  gain  the  mastery 
over  all.  The  man  looked  upon  me,  and  he  smiled  and  said, 
'  If  I  did  not  fear  to  do  thee  a  mischief,  I  would  show  thee  that 
which  thou  seekest.'  Then  I  desired  him  to  speak  freely. 
And  he  said :  '  Sleep  here  to-night,  and  in  the  morning  arise 
early,  and  take  the  road  upwards  through  the  valley,  until 
thou  readiest  the  wood.  A  little  way  within  the  wood  thou 
wilt  come  to  a  large  sheltered  glade,  with  a  mound  in  the 
centre.  And  thou  wilt  see  a  black  man  of  great  stature  on  the 
top  of  the  mound.  He  has  but  one  foot,  and  one  eye  in  the 
middle  of  his  forehead.  He  is  the  wood-ward  of  that  wood. 
And  thou  wilt  see  a  thousand  wild  animals  grazing  around 
him.  Inquire  of  him  the  way  out  of  the  glade,  and  he  will 
reply  to  thee  briefly,  and  will  point  out  the  road  by  which  thou 
shalt  find  that  which  thou  art  in  quest  of.' 

"  And  long  seemed  that  night  to  me.  And  the  next  morning 
I  arose  and  equipped  myself,  and  mounted  my  horse,  and 
proceeded  straight  through  the  valley  to  the  wood,  and  at 
length  I  arrived  at  the  glade.  And  the  black  man  was  there, 
sitting  upon  the  top  of  the  mound;  and  I  was  three  times 
more  astonished  at  the  number  of  wild  animals  that  I  beheld, 
than  the  man  had  said  I  should  be.  Then  I  inquired  of  him 
the  way,  and  he  asked  me  roughly  whither  I  would  go.  And 
when  I  had  told  him  who  I  was,  and  what  I  sought,  *  Take,' 
said  he,  *  that  path  that  leads  toward  the  head  of  the  glade,  and 
there  thou  wilt  find  an  open  space  like  to  a  large  valley,  and  in 
the  midst  of  it  a  tall  tree.  Under  this  tree  is  a  fountain,  and 
by  the  side  of  the  fountain  a  marble  slab,  and  on  the  marble 
slab  a  silver  bowl,  attached  by  a  chain  of  silver,  that  it  may  not 
be  carried  away.  Take  the  bowl,  and  throw  a  bowlful  of 


204  THE   MABINOGEON. 

water  on  the  slab.  And  if  thou  dost  not  find  trouble  in  that 
adventure,  thou  needest  not  seek  it  during  the  rest  of  thy  life.' 
"  So  I  journeyed  on  until  I  reached  the  summit  of  the  steep. 
And  there  I  found  everything  as  the  black  man  had  described 
it  to  me.  And  I  went  up  to  the  tree,  and  beneath  it  I  saw  the 
fountain,  and  by  its  side  the  marble  slab,  and  the  silver  bowl 
fastened  by  the  chain.  Then  I  took  the  bowl,  and  cast  a  bowl 
full  of  water  upon  the  slab.  And  immediately  I  heard  a  mighty 
peal  of  thunder,  so  that  heaven  and  earth  seemed  to  tremble 
with  its  fury.  And  after  the  thunder  came  a  shower ;  and  of 
a  truth  I  tell  thee,  Kay,  that  it  was  such  a  shower  as  neither 
man  nor  beast  could  endure  and  live.  I  turned  my  horse's 
flank  toward  the  shower,  and  placed  the  beak  of  my  shield 
over  his  head  and  neck,  while  I  held  the  upper  part  of  it  over 
my  own  neck.  And  thus  I  withstood  the  shower.  And  pres 
ently  the  sky  became  clear,  and  with  that,  behold,  the  birds 
lighted  upon  the  tree,  and  sang.  And  truly,  Kay,  I  never  heard 
any  melody  equal  to  that,  either  before  or  since.  And  when  I 
was  most  charmed  with  listening  to  the  birds,  lo  !  a  chiding 
voice  was  heard  of  one  approaching  me,  and  saying,  '  O  knight, 
what  has  brought  thee  hither?  What  evil  have  I  done  to  thee, 
that  thou  shouldst  act  towards  me  and  my  possessions  as 
thou  hast  this  day  ?  Dost  thou  not  know  that  the  shower  to 
day  has  left  in  my  dominions  neither  man  nor  beast  alive  that 
was  exposed  to  it?'  And  thereupon,  behold,  a  knight  on  a 
black  horse  appeared,  clothed  in  jet-black  velvet,  and  with  a 
tabard  of  black  linen  about  him.  And  we  charged  each  other, 
and,  as  the  onset  was  furious,  it  was  not  long  before  I  was 
overthrown.  Then  the  knight  passed  the  shaft  cf  his  lance 
through  the  bridle-rein  of  my  horse,  and  rode  off  with  the  two 
horses,  leaving  me  where  I  was.  And  he  did  not  even  bestow 
so  much  notice  upon  me  as  to  imprison  me,  nor  did  he  despoil 
me  of  my  arms.  So  I  returned  along  the  road  by  which  I  had 
come.  And  when  I  reached  the  glade  where  the  black  man 
was,  I  confess  to  thee,  Kay,  it  is  a  marvel  that  I  did  not  melt 
down  into  a  liquid  pool,  through  the  shame  I  felt  at  the  black 
man's  derision.  And  that  night  I  came  to  the  same  castle 
where  I  had  spent  the  night  preceding.  And  I  was  more  agree- 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  FOUNTAIN.  205 

ably  entertained  that  night  than  I  had  been  the  night  before. 
And  I  conversed  freely  with  the  inmates  of  the  castle;  and 
none  of  them  alluded  to  my  expedition  to  the  fountain,  neither 
did  I  mention  it  to  any.  And  I  remained  there  that  night. 
When  I  arose  on  the  morrow  I  found  ready  saddled  a  dark  bay 
palfrey,  with  nostrils  as  red  as  scarlet.  And  after  putting  on 
my  armor,  and  leaving  there  my  blessing,  I  returned  to  my  own 
court.  And  that  horse  I  still  possess,  and  he  is  in  the  stable 
yonder.  And  I  declare  that  I  would  not  part  with  him  for  the 
best  palfrey  in  the  island  of  Britain. 

"Now,  of  a  truth,  Kay,  no  man  ever  before  confessed  to  an 
adventure  so  much  to  his  own  discredit ;  and  verily  it  seems 
strange  to  me  that  neither  before  nor  since  have  I  heard  of  any 
person  who  knew  of  this  adventure,  and  that  the  subject  of  it 
should  exist  within  King  Arthur's  dominions  without  any  other 
person  lighting  upon  it  " 


CHAPTER  XXI. 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  FOUNTAIN,  CONTINUED. 

O WAIN'S  ADVENTUKE.* 

NOW,"  quoth  Owain,  "  would  it  not  be  well  to  go  and  en 
deavor  to  discover  that  place?" 

"  By  the  hand  of  my  friend,"  said  Kay,  "  often  dost  thou 
utter  that  with  thy  tongue  which  thou  wouldest  not  make  good 
with  thy  deeds." 

"In  very  truth,"  said  Guenever,  "it  were  better  thou  wert 

*  Amongst  all  the  characters  of  early  British  history  none  is  more  interesting1, 
or  occupies  a  more  conspicuous  place,  than  the  hero  of  this  tale.  Urien,  his 
father,  was  prince  of  Rheged,  a  district  comprising  the  present  Cumberland  and 
part  of  the  adjacent  country.  His  valor,  and  the  consideration  in  which  he  was 
held,  are  a  frequent  theme  of  Bardic  song,  and  form  the  subject  of  several  veiy 
spirited  odes  by  Taliesin.  Among  the  Triads  there  is  one  relating  to  him ;  it  is 
thus  translated :  — 

"  Three  Knights  of  Battle  were  in  the  court  of  Arthur:  Cadwr  the  Earl  of 
Cornwall,  Launcelot  du  Lac,  and  Owain  the  son  of  Urien.  And  this  was  their 
characteristic,  —  that  they  would  not  retreat  from  battle,  neither  for  spear,  nor 
for  arrow,  nor  for  sword.  And  Arthur  never  had  shame  in  battle  the  day  he  saw 
their  faces  there.  And  they  were  called  the  Knights  of  Battle." 
206 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  FOUNTAIN.  207 

hanged,  Kay,  than  to  use  such  uncourteous  speech  towards  a 
man  like  Owain." 

"By  the  hand  of  my  friend,  good  lady,"  said  Kay;  "thy 
praise  of  Owain  js  not  greater  than  mine." 

With  that  Arthur  awokte,  and  asked  if  he  had  not  been 
sleeping  a  little. 

"  Yes,  lord,"  answered  Owain,  "  thou  hast  slept  awhile." 

"  Is  it  time  for  us  to  go  to  meat?" 

"  It  is,  lord,"  said  Owain. 

Then  the  horn  for  washing  was  sounded,  and  the  king  and 
all  his  household  sat  down  to  eat.  And  when  the  meal  was 
ended,  Owain  withdrew  to  his  lodging,  and  made  ready  his 
horse  and  his  arms. 

On  the  morrow  with  the  dawn  of  day  he  put  on  his  armor, 
and  mounted  his  charger,  and  travelled  through  distant  lands, 
and  over  desert  mountains.  And  at  length  he  arrived  at  the 
valley  which  Kynon  had  described  to  him,  and  he  was  certain 
that  it  was  the  same  that  he  sought.  And  journeying  along 
the  valley,  by  the  side  of  the  river,  he  followed  its  course  till 
he  came  to  the  plain,  and  within  sight  of  the  castle.  When 
he  approached  the  castle,  he  saw  the  youths  shooting  with 
their  bows,  in  the  place  where  Kynon  had  seen  them,  and  the 
yellow  man,  to  whom  the  castle  belonged,  standing  hard  by. 
And  no  sooner  had  Owain  saluted  the  yellow  man,  than  he 
was  saluted  by  him  in  return. 

And  he  went  forward  towards  the  castle,  and  there  he  saw 
the  chamber ;  and  when  he  had  entered  the  chamber,  he  beheld 
the  maidens  working  at  satin  embroidery,  in  chains  of  gold. 
And  their  beauty  and  their  comeliness  seemed  to  Owain  far 
greater  than  Kynon  had  represented  to  him.  And  they  arose 
to  wait  upon  Owain,  as  they  had  done  to  Kynon.  And  the 
meal  which  they  set  before  him  gave  even  more  satisfaction  to 
Owain  than  it  had  done  to  Kynon. 

About  the  middle  of  the  repast  the  yellow  man  asked  Owain 
the  object  of  his  journey.  And  Owain  made  it  known  to  him, 
and  said,  "I  am  in  quest  of  the  knight  who  guards  the  foun 
tain."  Upon  this  the  yellow  man  smiled,  and  said  that  he  was 
as  loath  to  point  out  that  adventure  to  him  as  he  had  been  to 


208  THE    MABINOGEON. 

Kynon.      However,  be  described   the  whole  to  Owain,  and 
they  retired  to  rest. 

The  next  morning  Owain  found  his  horse  made  ready  for 
him  by  the  damsels,  and  he  set  forward  and  came  to  the  glade 
where  the  black  man  was.  And  the  stature  of  the  black  man 
seemed  more  wonderful  to  Owain  than  it  had  done  to  Kynon ; 
and  Owain  asked  of  him  his  road,  and  he  showed  it  to  him. 
And  Owain  followed  the  road  till  he  came  to  the  green  tree; 
and  he  beheld  the  fountain,  and  the  slab  beside  the  fountain, 
and  the  bowl  upon  it.  And  Owain  took  the  bowl  and  threw  a 
bowlful  of  water  upon  the  slab.  And,  lo !  the  thunder  was  heard, 
and  after  the  thunder  came  the  shower,  more  violent  than  Ky 
non  had  described,  and  after  the  shower  the  sky  became  bright. 
And  immediately  the  birds  came  and  settled  upon  the  tree  and 
sang.  And  when  their  song  was  most  pleasing  to  Owain,  he 
beheld  a  knight  coming  towards  him  through  the  valley ;  and 
he  prepared  to  receive  him,  and  encountered  him  violently. 
Having  broken  both  their  lances,  they  drew  their  swords  and 
fought  blade  to  blade.  Then  Owain  struck  the  knight  a  blow 
through  his  helmet,  head-piece,  and  visor,  and  through  the 
skin,  and  the  flesh,  and  the  bone,  until  it  wounded  the  very 
brain.  Then  the  black  knight  felt  that  he  had  received  a 
mortal  wound,  upon  which  he  turned  his  horse's  head  and  fled. 
And  Owain  pursued  him,  and  followed  close  upon  him,  al 
though  he  was  not  near  enough  to  strike  him  with  his  sword. 
Then  Owain  descried  a  vast  and  resplendent  castle ;  and  they 
came  to  the  castle  gate.  And  the  black  knight  was  allowed  to 
enter,  and  the  portcullis  was  let  fall  upon  Owain  ;  and  it  struck 
his  horse  behind  the  saddle,  and  cut  him  in  two,  and  carried 
away  the  rowels  of  the  spurs  that  were  upon  Owain's  hee]s. 
And  the  portcullis  descended  to  the  floor.  And  the  rowels  of 
the  spurs  and  part  of  the  horse  were  without,  and  Owain 
with  the  other  part  of  the  horse  remained  between  the  two 
gates,  and  the  inner  gate  was  closed,  so  that  Owain  could  not 
go  thence ;  and  Owain  was  in  a  perplexing  situation.  And 
while  he  was  in  this  state,  he  could  see  through  an  aperture  in 
the  gate  a  street  facing  him,  with  a  row  of  houses  on  each 
side.  And  he  beheld  a  maiden,  with  yellow,  curling  hair,  and 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  FOUNTAIN.  209 

a.  frontlet  of  gold  upon  her  head  ;  and  she  was  clad  in  a  dress 
of  yellow  satin,  and  on  her  feet  were  shoes  of  variegated 
leather.  And  she  approached  the  gate,  and  desired  that  it 
should  be  opened.  "Heaven  knows,  lady,"  said  Owain,  "it  is 
no  more  possible  for  me  t(V  open  to  thee  from  hence,  than  it  is 
for  thee  to  set  me  free."  And  he  told  her  his  "name,  and  who 
he  was.  "  Truly,"  said  the  damsel,  "  it  is  very  sad  that  thou 
canst  not  be  released ;  and  every  woman  ought  to  succor  thee, 
for  I  know  there  is  no  one  more  faithful  in  the  service  of  ladies 
than  thou.  Therefore,"  quoth  she,  "  whatever  is  in  my  power 
to  do  for  thy  release,  I  will  do  it.  Take  this  ring,  and  put  it 
on  thy  finger,  with  the  stone  inside  thy  hand,  and  close  thy 
hand  upon  the  stone.  And  as  long  as  thou  concealest  it,  it 
will  conceal  thee.  When  they  come  forth  to  fetcli  thee,  they 
will  be  much  grieved  that  they  cannot  find  thee.  And  I  will 
await  thee  on  the  horseblock  yonder,  and  thou  wilt  be  able  to 
see  me,  though  I  cannot  see  thee.  Therefore  come  and  place 
thy  hand  upon  my  shoulder,  that  I  may  know  that  thou  art 
near  me.  And  by  the  way  that  I  go  hence,  do  thou  accom 
pany  me." 

Then  the  maiden  went  away  from  Owain,  and  he  did  all  that 
she  had  told  him.  And  the  people  of  the  castle  came  to  seek 
Owain  to  put  him  to  death ;  and  when  they  found  nothing  but 
the  half  of  his  horse,  they  were  sorely  grieved. 

And  Owain  vanished  from  among  them,  and  went  to  the 
maiden,  and  placed  his  hand  upon  her  shoulder ;  whereupon 
she  set  off,  and  Owain  followed  her,  until  they  came  to  the 
door  of  a  large  and  beautiful  chamber,  and  the  maiden  opened 
it,  and  they  went  in.  And  Owain  looked  around  the  chamber, 
and  behold  there  was  not  a  single  nail  in  it  that  was  not  painted 
with  gorgeous  colors,  and  there  was  not  a  single  panel  that  had 
not  sundry  images  in  gold  portrayed  upon  it. 

The  maiden  kindled  a  fire,  and  took  water  in  a  silver  bowl, 
and  gave  Owain  water  to  wash.  Then  she  placed  before  him 
a  silver  table,  inlaid  with  gold  ;  upon  which  was  a  cloth  of  yel 
low  linen,  and  she  brought  him  food.  And,  of  a  truth,  Owain 
never  saw  any  kind  of  meat  that  was  not  there  in  abundance, 
but  it  was  better  cooked  there  than  he  had  ever  found  it  in 


210  THE    MABINOGEON. 

any  other  place.  And  there  was  not  one  vessel  from  which  he 
was  served  that  was  not  of  gold  or  of  silver.  And  Owain  eat 
and  drank  until  late  in  the  afternoon,  when,  lo  !  they  heard  a 
mighty  clamor  in  the  castle,  and  Ovvain  asked  the  maiden  what 
it  was.  "  They  are  administering  extreme  unction,"  said  she, 
"  to  the  nobleman  who  owns  the  castle."  And  she  prepared  a 
couch  for  Ovvain  which  was  meet  for  Arthur  himself,  and  Owain 
went  to  sleep. 

And  a  little  after  daybreak  he  heard  an  exceeding  loud  clamor 
and  wailing,  and  he  asked  the  maiden  what  was  the  cause  of 
it.  "  They  are  bearing  to  the  church  the  body  of  the  noble 
man  who  owned  the  castle." 

And  Owain  rose  up,  and  clothed  himself,  and  opened  a  win 
dow  of  the  chamber,  and  looked  towards  the  castle  ;  and  he 
could  see  neither  the  bounds  nor  the  extent  of  the  hosts  that 
filled  the  streets.  And  they  were  fully  armed ;  and  a  vast 
number  of  women  were  with  them,  both  on  horseback  and  on 
foot,  and  all  the  ecclesiastics  in  the  city  singing.  In  the  midst 
of  the  throng  he  beheld  the  bier,  over  which  was  a  veil  of  white 
linen  ;  and  wax  tapers  were  burning  beside  and  around  it ;  and 
none  that  supported  the  bier  was  lower  in  rank  than  a  power 
ful  baron. 

Never  did  Owain  see  an  assemblage  so  gorgeous  with  silk* 
and  satin.  And,  following  the  train,  he  beheld  a  lady  with 
yellow  hair  falling  over  her  shoulders,  and  stained  with  blood; 
and  about  her  a  dress  of  yellow  satin,  which  was  torn.  Upon 
her  feet  were  shoes  of  variegated  leather.  And  it  was  a  mar 
vel  that  the  ends  of  her  fingers  were  not  bruised  from  the  vio 
lence  with  which  she  smote  her  hands  together.  Truly  she 
would  have  been  the  fairest  lady  Owain  ever  saw  had  she  been 

*  Before  the  sixth  century  all  the  silk  used  by  Europeans  had  been  brought  to 
them  by  the  Seres,  the  ancestors  of  the  present  Boukharians,  whence  it  derived 
its  Latin  name  of  Serica.  In  551  the  silkworm  was  brought  by  two  monks  to 
Constantinople;  but  the  manufacture  of  silk  was  confined  to  the  Greek  empire  till 
the  year  1130,  when  Roger,  king  of  Sicily,  returning  from  a  crusade,  collected  some 
manufacturers  from  Athens  and  Corinth,  and  established  them  at  Palermo,  whence 
the  trade  was  gradually  disseminated  over  Italy.  The  varieties  of  silk  stuifs 
known  at  this  time  were  velvet,  satin  (which  was  called  samite),  and  taifety  (called 
cendal  or  sendall) ,  all  of  which  were  occasionally  stitched  with  gold  and  silver. 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  FOUNTAIN.  211 

in  her  usual  guise.  And  her  cry  was  louder  than  the  shout  of 
the  men  or  the  clamor  of  the  trumpets.  No  sooner  had  he  be 
held  the  lady  than  he  became  inflamed  with  her  love,  so  that  it 
took  entire  possession  of  him. 

Then  he  inquired  of  the  maiden  who  the  lady  was.  "  Heaven 
knows,"  replied  the  maiden,  "  she  is  the  fairest,  and  the  most 
chaste,  and  the  most  liberal,  and  the  most  noble  of  women. 
She  is  my  mistress,  and  she  is  called  the  Countess  of  the  Foun 
tain,  the  wife  of  him  whom  thou  didst  slay  yesterday."  "  Veri 
ly,"  said  Owain,  "  she  is  the  woman  that  I  love  best."  "Verily," 
sid  athe  maiden,  "she  shall  also  love  thee,  not  a  little. 

Then  the  maiden  prepared  a  repast  for  Owain,  and  truly  he 
thought  he  had  never  before  so  good  a  meal,  nor  was  he  ever 
so  well  served.  Then  she  left  him,  and  went  towards  the  cas 
tle.  When  she  came  there  she  found  nothing  but  mourning 
and  sorrow ;  and  the  Countess  in  her  chamber  could  not  bear  the 
sight  of  any  one  through  grief.  Limed,  for  that  was  the  name 
of  the  maiden,  saluted  her,  but  the  Countess  answered  her  not. 
And  the  maiden  bent  down  towards  her,  and  said,  "  What  ail- 
eth  thee  that  thou  answerest  no  one  to-day?"  "Luned,"  said 
the  Countess,  "  what  change  hath  befallen  thee  that  thou  hast 
not  come  to  visit  me  in  my  grief  ?  It  was  wrong  in  thee,  and  I 
so  sorely  afflicted."  "Truly,"  said  Luned,  "I  thought  thy 
good  sense  was  greater  than  I  find  it  to  be.  Is  it  well  for  thee 
to  mourn  after  that  good  man,  or  for  anything  else  that  thou 
canst  not  have?"  "I  declare  to  Heaven,"  said  the  Countess, 
"that  in  the  whole  world  there  is  not  a  man  equal  to  him," 
"Not  so,"  said  Luned,  "for  an  ugly  man  would  be  as  good  as, 
or  better  than  he."  "  I  declare  to  Heaven,"  said  the  Countess, 
"  that  were  it  not  repugnant  to  me  to  put  to  death  one  whom 
I  have  brought  up  I  would  have  thee  executed  for  making  such 
a  comparison  to  me.  As  it  is,  I  will  banish  thee."  "I  am 
glad,"  said  Luned,  "  that  thou  hast  no  other  cause  to  do  so  than 
that  I  would  have  been  of  service  to  thee,  where  thou  didst 
not  know  what  was  to  thine  advantage.  Henceforth  evil  be 
tide  whichever  of  us  shall  make  the  first  advance  towards 
reconciliation  to  the  other,  whether  I  should  seek  an  invita 
tion  from  thee,  or  thou  of  thine  own  accord  shouldst  send  to 


212  THE    MABINOGEON. 

With  that  Limed  went  forth ;  and  the  Countess  arose  and 
followed  her  to  the  door  of  the  chamber,  and  began  coughing 
loudly.  And  when  Luned  looked  back  the  Countess  beckoned 
to  her,  and  she  returned  to  the  Countess.  "  In  truth,"  said  the 
Countess,  "evil  is  thy  disposition  ;  but  if  thou  knowest  what 
is  to  my  advantage,  declare  it  to  rne."  "  I  will  do  so,"  said 
she. 

"  Thou  knowest  that,  except  by  warfare  and  arms,  it  is  im 
possible  for  thee  to  preserve  thy  possessions ;  delay  not,  there 
fore,  to  seek  some  one  who  can  defend  them."  "And  how  can 
I  do  that?"  said  the  Countess.  "  I  will  tell  thee,"  said  Luned  ; 
"  unless  thou  canst  defend  the  fountain  thou  canst  not  main 
tain  thy  dominions ;  and  no  one  can  defend  the  fountain  ex 
cept  it  be  a  knight  of  Arthur's  household.  I  will  go  to  Ar 
thur's  court,  and  ill  betide  me  if  I  return  not  thence  with  a 
warrior  who  can  guard  the  fountain  as  well  as,  or  even  better, 
than  he  who  defended  it  formerly."  "  That  will  be  hard  to 
perform,"  said  the  Countess.  "  Go,  however,  and  make  proof 
of  that  which  thou  hast  promised." 

Luned  set  out  under  the  pretence  of  going  to  Arthur's  court; 
but  she  went  back  to  the  mansion  where  she  had  left  Owain, 
and  she  tarried  there  as  long  as  it  might  have  taken  her  to 
travel  to  the  court  of  King  Arthur  and  back.  And  at  the  end 
of  that  time  she  apparelled  herself,  and  went  to  visit  the 
Countess.  And  the  Countess  was  much  rejoiced  when  she 
saw  her,  and  inquired  what  news  she  brought  from  the  court 
"I  bring  thee  the  best  of  news,"  said  Luned,  "for  I  have 
compassed  the  object  of  my  mission.  When  wilt  thou  that  I 
should  present  to  thee  the  chieftain  who  has  come  with  me 
thither?"  u Bring  him  here  to  visit  me  to-morrow,"  said  the 
Countess,  "  and  I  will  cause  the  town  to  be  assembled  by  that 
time." 

And  Luned  returned  home.  And  the  next  day,  at  noon, 
Owain  arrayed  himself  in  a  coat  and  a  surcoat,  and  a  mantle 
of  yellow  satin,  upon  which  was  a  broad  band  of  gold  lace  ;  and 
on  his  feet  were  high  shoes  of  variegated  leather,  which  were 
fastened  by  golden  clasps,  in  the  form  of  lions.  And  they 
proceeded  to  the  chamber  of  the  Countess. 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  FOUNTAIN.  213 

Right  glad  was  the  Countess  of  their  coming.  And  she 
gazed  steadfastly  upon  Owain,  and  said,  "Limed,  this  knight 
lias  not  the  look  of  a  traveller."  "  What  harm  is  there  in  that, 
lady?"  said  Luiied.  "I  am  certain,"  said  the  Countess,  "that 
no  other  man  than  this  ch'fised  the  soul  from  the  body  of  my 
lord."  "  So  much  the  better  for  thee,  lady,"  said  Luned,  "  for 
had  he  not  been  stronger  than  thy  lord,  lie  could  not  have 
deprived  him  of  life.  There  is  no  remedy  for  that  which  is 
past,  be  it  as  it  may."  "Go  back  to  thine  abode,"  said  the 
Countess,  "and  I  will  take  counsel." 

The  next  day  the  Countess  caused  all  her  subjects  to  as 
semble,  and  showed  them  that  her  earldom  was  left  defence 
less,  and  that  it  could  not  be  protected  but  with  horse  and 
arms,  and  military  skill.  "Therefore,"  said  she,  "this  is  what 
I  offer  for  your  choice :  either  let  one  of  you  take  me,  or  give 
your  consent  for  me  to  take  a  husband  from  elsewhere,  to 
defend  my  dominions." 

So  they  came  to  the  determination  that  it  was  better  that  she 
should  have  permission  to  marry  some  one  from  elsewhere; 
and  thereupon  she  sent  for  the  bishops  and  archbishops,  to 
celebrate  her  nuptials  with  Owain.  And  the  men  of  the  earl 
dom  did  Owain  homage. 

And  Owain  defended  the  fountain  with  lance  and  sword. 
And  this  is  the  manner  in  which  he  defended  it.  Whensoever 
a  knight  came  there,  he  overthrew  him,  and  sold  him  for  his 
full  worth.  And  what  he  thus  gained  he  divided  among  his 
barons  and  his  knights,  and  no  man  in  the  whole  world  could 
be  more  beloved  than  he  was  by  his  subjects.  And  it  was  thus 
for  the  space  of  three  years.* 

*  There  exists  an  ancient  poem,  printed  among  those  of  Taliesin,  called  the 
Elegy  of  Owain  ap  Urien,  and  containing  several  very  beautiful  and  spirited 
passages.  It  commences : 

"  The  soul  of  Owain  ap  Urien, 
May  its  Lord  consider  its  exigencies ! 
Iteged's  chief  the  green  turf  covers." 

In  the  course  of  this  Elegy,  the  bai'd,  alluding  to  the  incessant  warfare  with 
which  this  chieftain  harassed  his  Saxon  foes,  exclaims  : 

"  Could  England  sleep  with  the  light  upon  her  eyes !  " 


CHAPTEE  XXII. 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  FOUNTAIN,   CONTINUED. 

GA WAIN'S  ADVENTURE. 

IT  befell  that,  as  Gawain  went  forth  one  day  with  King 
Arthur,  he  perceived  him  to  be  very  sad  and  sorrowful. 
And  Gawain  was  much  grieved  to  see  Arthur  in  this  state,  and 
he  questioned  him,  saying,  "O  my  lord,  what  has  befallen 
thee?"  "In  sooth,  Gawain,"  said  Arthur,  "I  am  grieved 
concerning  O\vain,  whom  I  have  lost  these  three  years;  and  I 
shall  certainly  die  if  the  fourth  year  pass  without  my  seeing 
him.  Now  I  am  sure  that  it  is  through  the  tale  which  Kynon, 
the  son  of  Clydno,  related,  that  I  have  lost  Ovvain."  "There 
is  no  need  for  thee,"  said  Gawain,  "to  summon  to  arms  thy 
whole  dominions  on  this  account,  for  thou  thyself,  and  the 
men  of  thy  household,  will  be  able  to  avenge  Owain  if  he  be 
slain,  or  to  set  him  free  if  he  be  in  prison ;  and,  if  alive,  to 
bring  him  back  with  thee."  And  it  was  settled  according  to 
what  Gawain  had  said. 
214 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  FOUNTAIN.  215 

Then  Arthur  and  the  men  of  his  household  prepared  to  go 
and  seek  Owain.  And  Kynon,  the  son  of  Clydno,  acted  as 
their  guide.  And  Arthur  came  to  the  castle  where  Kynon 
had  been  before*  And  when  he  came  there,  the  youths  were 
shooting  in  the  same  place'?  and  the  yellow  man  was  standing 
hard  by.  When  the  yellow  man  saw  Arthur,  he  greeted  him, 
and  invited  him  to  the  castle.  And  Arthur  accepted  his 
invitation,  and  they  entered  the  castle  together.  And  great 
as  was  the  number  of  his  retinue,  their  presence  was  scarcely 
observed  in  the  castle,  so  vast  was  its  extent.  And  the  maidens 
rose  up  to  wait  on  them.  And  the  service  of  the  maidens 
appeared  to  them  all  to  excel  any  attendance  they  had  ever 
met  with;  and  even  the  pages,  who  had  charge  of  the  horses, 
were  no  worse  served  that  night  than  Arthur  himself  would 
have  been  in  his  own  palace. 

The  next  morning  Arthur  set  out  thence,  with  Kynon  for 
his  guide,  and  came  to.  the  place  where  the  black  man  was. 
And  the  stature  of  the  black  man  was  more  surprising  to  Ar 
thur  than  it  had  been  represented  to  him.  And  they  came  to 
the  top  of  the  wooded  steep,  and  traversed  the  valley,  till  they 
reached  the  green  tree,  where  they  saw  the  fountain  and  the 
bowl  and  the  slab.  And  upon  that  Kay  came  to  Arthur,  and 
spoke  to  him.  "My  lord,"  said  he,  "I  know  the  meaning  of 
all  this,  and  my  request  is  that  thou  wilt  permit  me  to  throw 
the  water  on  the  slab,  and  to  receive  the  first  adventure  that 
may  befall."  And  Arthur  gave  him  leave. 

Then  Kay  threw  a  bowlful  of  water  upon  the  slab,  and  im 
mediately  there  came  the  thunder,  and  after  the  thunder  the 
shower.  And  such  a  thunder-storm  they  had  never  known 
before.  After  the  shower  had  ceased,  the  sky  became  clear, 
and  on  looking  at  the  tree,  they  beheld  it  completely  leafless. 
Then  the  birds  descended  upon  the  tree.  And  the  song  of 
the  birds  was  far  sweeter  than  any  strain  they  had  ever  heard 
before.  Then  they  beheld  a  knight,  on  a  coal-black  horse, 
clothed  in  black  satin,  coming  rapidly  towards  them.  And 
Kay  met  him  and  encountered  him,  and  it  was  not  long  before 
Kay  was  overthrown.  And  the  knight  withdrew.  And  Ar 
thur  and  his  host  encamped  for  the  night. 


216  THE    MABINOGEON. 

And  when  they  arose  in  the  morning,  they  perceived  the 
signal  of  combat  upon  the  lance  of  the  knight.  Then,  one  by 
one,  all  the  household  of  Arthur  went  forth  to  combat  the 
knight,  until  there  was  not  one  that  was  not  overthrown  by 
him,  except  Arthur  and  Gawain.  And  Arthur  armed  himself 
to  encounter  the  knight.  "O  my  lord,"  said  Gawain,  "permit 
me  to  fight  with  him  first."  And  Arthur  permitted  him. 
And  he  went  forth  to  meet  the  knight,  having  over  himself 
and  his  horse  a  satin  robe  of  honor,  which  had  been  sent  him 
by  the  daughter  of  the  Earl  of  Rhangyr,  and  in  this  dress  he 
was  not  known  by  any  of  the  host.  And  they  charged  each 
other,  and  fought  all  that  day  until  the  evening.  And  neither 
of  them  was  able  to  unhorse  the  other.  And  so  it  was  the 
next  day;  they  broke  their  lances  in  the  shock,  but  neither  of 
them  could  obtain  the  mastery. 

And  the  third  day  they  fought  with  exceeding  strong  lances. 
And  they  were  incensed  with  rage,  and  fought  furiously,  even 
until  noon.  And  they  gave  each  other  such  a  shock,  that  the 
girths  of  their  horses  were  broken,  so  that  they  fell  over  their 
horses'  cruppers  to  the  ground.  And  they  rose  up  speedily 
and  drew  their  swords,  and  resumed  the  combat.  And  all 
they  that  witnessed  their  encounter  felt  assured  that  they  had 
never  before  seen  two  men  so  valiant  or  so  powerful.  And 
had  it  been  midnight,  it  would  have  been  light,  from  the  fire 
that  flashed  from  their  weapons.  And  the  knight  gave  Ga 
wain  a  blow  that  turned  his  helmet  from  off  his  face,  so  that 
the  knight  saw  that  it  was  Gawain.  Then  Owain  said,  "My 
lord  Gawain,  I  did  not  know  thee  for  my  cousin,  owing  to  the 
robe  of  honor  that  enveloped  thee;  take  my  sword  and  my 
arms."  Said  Gawain,  "Thou,  Ovvain,  art  the  victor;  take 
thou  my  sword."  And  with  that  Arthur  saw  that  they  were 
conversing,  and  advanced  toward  them.  "My  lord  Arthur," 
said  Gawain,  "here  is  Owain,  who  has  vanquished  me,  and 
will  not  take  my  arms."  "My  lord,"  said  Owain,  "it  is  he 
that  has  vanquished  me,  and  he  will  not  take  my  sword." 
"Give  me.  your  swords,"  said  Arthur,  "and  then  neither  of 
you  has  vanquished  the  other."  Then  Owain  put  his  arms 
round  Arthur's  neck,  and  they  embraced.  And  all  the  host 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  FOUNTAIN.  217 

hurried  forward,  to  see  Owain,  and  to  embrace  him.  And 
there  was  nigh  being  a  loss  of  life,  so  great  was  the  press. 

And  they  retired  that  night,  and  the  next  day  Arthur  prepared 
to  depart.  "My* lord,"  said  Owain,  "this  is  not  well  of  thee. 
For  I  have  been  absent  from'thee  these  three  years,  and  during 
all  that  time,  up  to  this  very  day,  I  have  been  preparing  a 
banquet  for  thee,  knowing  that  thou  wouldst  come  to  seek  me. 
Tarry  with  me,  therefore,  until  thou  and  thy  attendants  have 
recovered  the  fatigues  of  the  journey,  and  have  been  anointed." 

And  they  all  proceeded  to  the  castle  of  the  Countess  of  the 
Fountain,  and  the  banquet  which  had  been  three  years  pre 
paring  was  consumed  in  three  mouths.  Never  had  they  a 
more  delicious  or  agreeable  banquet.  And  Arthur  prepared  to 
depart.  Then  he  sent  an  embassy  to  the  Countess  to  beseech 
her  to  permit  Owain  to  go  with  him  for  the  space  of  three 
months,  that  he  might  show  him  to  the  nobles  and  the  fair 
dames  of  the  island  of  Britain.  And  the  Countess  gave  her 
consent,  although  it  was  very  painful  to  her.  So  Owain  came 
with  Arthur  to  the  island  of  Britain.  And  when  he  was  once 
more  amongst  his  kindred  and  friends,  he  remained  three 
years,  instead  of  three  months,  with  them. 

THE  ADVENTURE  OF  THE  Liox. 

And  as  Owain  one  day  sat  at  meat,  in  the  city  of  Caerleon 
upon  Usk,  behold  a  damsel  entered  the  hall,  upon  a  bay  horse,* 

*  The  custom  of  riding  into  a  hall  while  the  lord  and  his  guests  sat  at  meat 
might  be  illustrated  by  numerous  passages  of  ancient  romance  and  history.    But  a 
quotation  from  Chaucer's  beautiful  and  half-told  tale  of  Carnbuscan  is  sufficient : 
"  And  so  befell  that  after  the  thridde  cours, 

While  that  this  king  sat  thus  in  his  nobley, 

Herking  his  minstralles  thirthinges  play, 

Beforne  him  at  his  bord  deliciously, 

In  at  the  halle  door  all  sodenly 

Ther  came  a  knight  upon  a  stede'of  bras, 

And  in  his  hond  a  brod  mirrour  of  glas, 

Upon  his  thombe  he  had  of  gold  a  ring, 

And  by  his  side  a  naked  sword  hanging ; 

And  up  he  rideth  to  the  highe  bord. 

In  all  the  halle  ne  was  ther  spoke  a  word, 

For  mervaille  of  this  knight;  him  to  behold 

Full  besily  they  waiten,  young  and  old." 


218  THE    MABINOGEON. 

with  a  curling  mane,  and  covered  with  foam ;  and  the  bridle, 
and  as  much  as  was  seen  of  the  saddle,  were  of  gold.  And 
the  damsel  was  arrayed  in  a  dress  of  yellow  satin.  And  she 
came  up  to  Owain,  and  took  the  ring  from  off  his  hand. 
"  Thus,"  said  she,  "  shall  be  treated  the  deceiver,  the  traitor, 
the  faithless,  the  disgraced,  and  the  beardless."  And  she 
turned  her  horse's  head,  and  departed. 

Then  his  adventure  came  to  O wain's  remembrance,  and  he 
was  sorrowful.  And  having  finished  eating,  he  went  to  his 
own  abode,  and  made  preparations  that  night.  And  the  next 
day  lie  arose,  but  did  not  go  to  the  court,  nor  did  he  return  to 
the  Countess  of  the  Fountain,  but  wandered  to  the  distant 
parts  of  the  earth  and  to  uncultivated  mountains.  And  he 
remained  there  until  all  his  apparel  was  worn  out  and  his  body 
was  wasted  away,  and  his  hair  was  grown  long.  And  he  went 
about  witli  the  wild  beasts,  and  fed  with  them,  until  they  be 
came  familiar  with  him.  But  at  length  he  became  so  weak  that 
he  could  no  longer  bear  them  company.  Then  he  descended 
from  the  mountains  to  the  valley,  and  came  to  a  park,  that  was 
the  fairest  in  the  world,  and  belonged  to  a  charitable  lady. 

One  day  the  lady  and  her  attendants  went  forth  to  walk 
by  a  lake  that  was  in  the  middle  of  the  park.  And  they  saw 
the  form  of  a  man  lying  as  if  dead.  And  they  were  terrified. 
Nevertheless  they  went  near  him,  and  touched  him,  and  they 
saw  that  there  was  life  in  him.  And  the  lady  returned  to  the 
castle,  and  took  a  flask  full  of  precious  ointment  and  gave  it  to 
one  of  her  maidens.  "  Go  with  this,"  said  she,  "and  take  with 
thee  yonder  horse,  and  clothing,  and  place  them  near  the  man 
we  saw  just  now;  and  anoint  him  with  this  balsam  near  his 
heart;  and  if  there  is  life  in  him  he  will  revive,  through  the 
efficiency  of  this  balsam.  Then  watch  what  he  will  do." 

And  the  maiden  departed  from  her,  and  went  and  poured 
of  the  balsam  upon  Owain,  and  left  the  horse  and  the  garments 
hard  by,  and  went  a  little  way  off  and  hid  herself  to  watch 
him.  In  a  short  time  she  saw  him  begin  to  move  ;  and  he  rose 
up  and  looked  at  his  person,  and  became  ashamed  of  the  un 
seemliness  of  his  appearance.  Then  he  perceived  the  horse  and 
the  garments  that  were  near  him.  And  he  clothed  himself,  and 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  FOUNTAIN.  219 

with  difficulty  mounted  the  horse.  Then  the  damsel  discov 
ered  herself  to  him,  and  saluted  him.  And  he  and  the  maiden 
proceeded  to  the  castle,  and  the  maiden  conducted  him  to  a 
pleasant  chamber,  and  kindled  a  fire,  and  left  him. 

And  he  stayed  at  the  castle^hree  months,  till  he  was  restored 
to  his  former  guise,  and  became  even  more  comely  than  he  had 
ever  been  before.  And  Owain  rendered  signal  service  to  the 
lady  in  a  controversy  with  a  powerful  neighbor,  so  that  he 
made  ample  requital  to  her  for  her  hospitality;  and  he  took 
his  departure. 

And  as  he  journeyed  he  heard  a  loud  yelling  in  a  wood. 
And  it  was  repeated  a  second  and  a  third  time.  Arid  Owain 
went  towards  the  spot,  and  beheld  a  huge  craggy  mound,  in 
the  middle  of  the  wood,  on  the  side  of  which  was  a  gray  rock. 
And  there  was  a  cleft  in  the  rock,  and  a  serpent  was  within  the 
cleft.  And  near  the  rock  stood  a  black  lion,  and  every  time 
the  lion  sought  to  go  thence  the  serpent  darted  towards  him 
to  attack  him.  And  Owain  unsheathed  his  sword,  and  drew 
near  to  the  rock ;  and  as  the  serpent  sprung  out  he  struck  him 
with  his  sword  and  cut  him  in  two.  And  he  dried  his  sword, 
and  went  on  his  way  as  before.  But  behold  the  lion  followed 
him,  and  played  about  him,  as  though  it  had  been  a  greyhound 
that  he  had  reared. 

They  proceeded  thus  throughout  the  day,  until  the  evening. 
And  when  it  was  time  for  Owain  to  take  his  rest  he  dismounted, 
and  turned  his  horse  loose  in  a  flat  and  wooded  meadow.  And 
he  struck  fire,  and  when  the  fire  was  kindled  the  lion  brought 
him  fuel  enough  to  last  for  three  nights.  And  the  lion  disap 
peared.  And  presently  the  lion  returned,  bearing  a  fine  large 
roebuck.  And  he  threw  it  down  before  Owain,  who  went  to 
wards  the  fire  with  it. 

And  Owain  took  the  roebuck  and  skinned  it,  and  placed  col- 
lops  of  its  flesh  upon  skewers  round  the  fire.  The  rest  of  the 
buck  he  gave  to  the  lion  to  devour.  While  he  was  so  employed 
he  heard  a  deep  groan  near  him,  and  a  second,  and  a  third. 
And  the  place  whence  the  groans  proceeded  was  a  cave  in  the 
rock ;  and  Owain  went  near,  and  called  out  to  know  who  it 
was  that  groaned  so  piteously.  And  a  voice  answered,  "I  am 


220  THE    MABINOGEON. 

Luned,  the  handmaiden  of  the  Countess  of  the  Fountain." 
"And  what  dost  tliou  here?"  said  he.  "I  am  imprisoned," 
said  she,  "on  account  of  the  knight  who  came  from  Arthur's 
court  and  married  the  Countess.  And  he  staid  a  short  time 
with  her,  but  he  afterwards  departed  for  the  court  of  Arthur, 
and  has  not  returned  since.  And  two  of  the  Countess's  pages 
traduced  him,  and  called  him  a  deceiver.  And  because  I  said 
I  would  vouch  for  it  he  would  come  before  long  and  maintain 
his  cause  against  both  of  them  they  imprisoned  me  in  this 
cave,  and  said  that  I  should  be  put  to  death  unless  he  came  to 
deliver  me  by  a  certain  day  ;  and  that  is  no  further  off  than  to 
morrow,  and  I  have  no  one  to  send  to  seek  him  for  me.  His 
name  is  Owain,  the  son  of  Urien."  "And  art  thou  certain  that 
if  that  knight  knew  all  this  he  would  come  to  thy  rescue  ?  "  "I 
am  most  certain  of  it,"  said  she. 

When  the  collops  were  cooked,  Owain  divided  them  into  two 
parts,  between  himself  and  the  maiden,  and  then  Owain  laid 
himself  down  to  sleep ;  and  never  did  sentinel  keep  stricter 
watch  over  his  lord  than  the  lion  that  night  over  Owain. 

And  the  next  day  there  came  two  pages  with  a  great  troop 
of  attendants  to  take  Limed  from  her  cell,  and  put  her  to  death. 
And  Owain  asked  them  what  charge  they  had  against  her. 
And  they  told  him  of  the  compact  that  was  between  them  ; 
as  the  maiden  had  done  the  night  before.  "And,"  said  they, 
"  Owain  has  failed  her,  therefore  we  are  taking  her  to  be  burnt." 
"Truly,"  said  Owain,  "he  is  a  good  knight,  and  if  he  knew 
that  the  maiden  was  in  such  peril,  I  marvel  that  he  came  not  to 
her  rescue.  But  if  you  will  accept  me  in  his  stead,  I  will  do 
battle  with  you."  "  We  will,"  said  the  youths. 

And  they  attacked  Owain,  and  he  was  hard  beset  by  them. 
And  with  that,  the  lion  came  to  Ownin's  assistance,  and  they 
two  got  the  better  of  the  young  men.  And  they  said  to  him, 
"Chieftain,  it  was  not  agreed  that  we  should  fight  save  with 
thyself  alone,  and  it  is  harder  for  us  to  contend  with  yonder 
animal  than  with  thee."  And  Owain  put  the  lion  in  the  place 
where  Luned  had  been  imprisoned,  and  blocked  up  the  door 
with  stones.  And  he  went  to  fight  with  the  young  men  as  be 
fore.  But  Owain  had  not  his  usual  strength,  and  the  two 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  FOUNTAIN.  221 

youths  pressed  hard  upon  him.  And  the  lion  roared  inces 
santly  at  seeing  Owain  in  trouble.  And  he  burst  through  the 
wall,  until  he  found  his  way  out,  and  rushed  upon  the  young 
men  and  instantly,  slew  them.  So  Luned  was  saved  from  being 
burned. 

Then  Owain  returned  with  Luned  to  the  castle  of  the  Lady 
of  the  Fountain.  And  when  he  went  thence,  he  took  the 
Countess  with  him  to  Arthur's  court,  and  she  was  his  wife  as 
long  as  she  lived. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

GERAIXT,  THE  SON  OF  ERBIN. 

ARTHUR  was  accustomed  to  hold  his  court  at  Caerleon 
upon  Usk.  And  there  he  held  it  seven  Easters  and  five 
Christmases.  And  once  upon  a  time  he  held  his  court  there  at 
Whitsuntide.  For  Caerleon  was  the  place  most  easy  of  access 
in  his  dominions,  both  by  sea  and  by  land.  And  there  were  as 
sembled  nine  crowned  kings,  who  were  his  tributaries,  and  like 
wise  earls  and  barons.  For  they  were  his  invited  guests  at  all 
the  high  festivals,  unless  they  were  prevented  by  any  great 
hinderance.  And  when  he  was  at  Caerleon  holding  his  court, 
thirteen  churches  were  set  apart  for  mass.  And  thus  they  were 
appointed :  one  church  for  Arthur  and  his  kings,  and  his 
guests ;  and  the  second  for  Guenever  and  her  ladies ;  and  the 
third  for  the  steward  of  the  household  and  the  suitors  ;  and  the 
fourth  for  the  Franks  and  the  other  officers;  and  the  other 
nine  churches  were  for  the  nine  masters  of  the  household,  and 
chiefly  for  Gawain,  for  he,  from  the  eminence  of  his  warlike 
fame,  and  from  the  nobleness  of  his  birth,  was  the  most  exalted 
222 


GERAINT,    THE    SON    OF    ERBIN.  223 

of  the  nine.  And  there  was  no  other  arrangement  respecting 
the  churches  than  that  which  we  have  here  mentioned. 

And  on  Whit-Tuesday,  as  the  king  sat  at  the  banquet,  lo, 
there  entered  a  tall,  fair-headed  youth,  clad  in  a  coat  and  sur- 
coat  of  satin,  and  a  golden-liilted  sword  about  his  neck,  and 
low  shoes  of  leather  upon  his  feet.  And  lie  came  and  stood 
before  Arthur.  "  Hail  to  thee,  lord,"  said  he.  "  Heaven  pros 
per  thee,"  he  answered,  "  and  be  thou  welcome."  "  Dost  thou 
bring  any  new  tidings?"  "  I  do,  lord,"  he  said.  "I  am  one 
of  thy  foresters,  lord,  in  the  forest  of  Dean,  and  my  name  is 
Madoc,  son  of  Turgadarn.  In  the  forest  I  saw  a  stag,  the  like 
of  which  beheld  I  never  yet."  "  What  is  there  about  him," 
asked  Arthur,  "that  thou  never  yet  didst  see  his  like  ?"  "He 
is  of  pure  white,  lord,  and  he  does  not  herd  with  any  other 
animal,  through  stateliness  and  pride,  so  royal  is  his  bearing. 
And  I  come  to  seek  thy  counsel,  lord,  and  to  know  thy  will 
concerning  him."  "  It  seems  best  to  me,"  said  Arthur,  "  to  go 
and  hunt  him  to-morrow  at  break  of  day,  and  to  cause  general 
notice  thereof  to  be  given  to-night,  in  all  quarters  of  the  court." 
And  Arryfuerys  was  Arthur's  chief  huntsman,  and  Arelivri 
his  chief  page.  And  all  received  notice ;  and  thus  it  was  ar 
ranged. 

Then  Guenever  said  to  Arthur,  "  Wilt  thou  permit  me,  lord, 
to  go  to-morrow  to  see  and  hear  the  hunt  of  the  stag  of  which 
the  young  man  spoke?"  "I  will  gladly,"  said  Arthur.  And 
Gawain  said  to  Arthur,  "  Lord,  if  it  seem  well  to  thee,  permit 
that  into  whose  hunt  soever  the  stag  shall  come,  that  one,  be 
he  a  knight  or  one  on  foot,  may  cut  off  his  head,  and  give  it  to 
whom  he  pleases,  whether  to  his  own  lady-love,  or  to  the  lady 
of  his  friend."  "I  grant  it  gladly,"  said  Arthur,  "  and  let  the 
steward  of  the  household  be  chastised,  if  all  things  are  not 
ready  to  morrow  for  the  chase." 

And  they  passed  the  night  with  songs  and  diversions  and 
discourse,  and  ample  entertainment.  And  when  it  was  time 
for  them  all  to  go  to  sleep,  they  went.  And  when  the  next 
day  came,  they  arose.  And  Arthur  called  the  attendants  who 
guarded  his  couch.  And  there  were  four  pages  whose  names 
were  Cadyrnerth,  the  son  of  Gandwy,  and  Ambreu,  the  son  of 


224  THE    MABINOGEON. 

Bedvvor,  and  Arahar,  the  son  of  Arthur,  and  Goreu,  the  son  of 
Custennin.  And  these  men  came  to  Arthur  and  saluted  him, 
and  arrayed  him  in  his  garments.  And  Arthur  wondered  that 
Guenever  did  not  awake,  and  the  attendants  wished  to  awaken 
her.  "Disturb  her  not,"  said  Arthur,  "for  she  had  rather 
sleep  than  go  to  see  the  hunting." 

Then  Arthur  went  forth,  and  he  heard  two  horns  sounding, 
one  from  near  the  lodging  of  the  chief  huntsman,  and  the 
other  from  near  that  of  the  chief  page.  And  the  whole 
assembly  of  the  multitudes  came  to  Arthur,  and  they  took 
the  road  to  the  forest. 

And  after  Arthur  had  gone  forth  from  the  palace,  Guenever 
awoke,  and  called  to  her  maidens,  and  apparelled  herself. 
"Maidens,"  said  she,  "I  had  leave  last  night  to  go  and  see 
the  hunt.  Go  one  of  you  to  the  stable,  and  order  hither  a 
horse  such  as  a  woman  may  ride."  And  one  of  them  went, 
and  she  found  but  two  horses  in  the  stable  ;  and  Guenever  and 
one  of  her  maidens  mounted  them,  and  went  through  the  Usk, 
and  followed  the  track  of  the  men  and  the  horses.  And  as 
they  rode  thus,  they  heard  a  loud  and  rushing  sound  ;  and  they 
looked  behind  them,  and  beheld  a  knight  upon  a  hunter  foal  of 
mighty  size.  And  the  rider  was  a  fair-haired  youth,  bare 
legged,  and  of  princely  mien;  and  a  golden-hilted  sword  was 
at  his  side,  and  a  robe  and  a  surcoat  of  satin  were  upon  him, 
and  two  low  shoes  of  leather  were  upon  his  feet ;  and  around 
him  was  a  scarf  of  blue  purple,  at  each  corner  of  which  was  a 
golden  apple.  And  his  horse  stepped  stately  and  swift  and 
proud  ;  and  he  overtook  Guenever,  and  saluted  her.  "  Heaven 
prosper  tliee,  Geraint,"  said  she ;  "  and  why  didst  thou  not  go 
with  thy  lord  to  hunt?"  "Because  I  knew  not  when  he 
went,"  said  he.  "I  marvel  too,"  said  she,  <{how  he  could  go, 
unknown  to  me.  But  thou,  O  young  man,  art  the  most 
agreeable  companion  I  could  have  in  the  whole  kingdom  ;  and 
it  may  be  I  shall  be  more  amused  with  the  hunting  than  they  ; 
for  we  shall  hear  the  horns  when  they  sound,  and  we  shall  hear 
the  dogs  when  they  are  let  loose  and  begin  to  cry." 

So  they  went  to  the  edge  of  the  forest,  and  there  they  stood. 
"  From  this  place,"  said  she,  "  we  shall  hear  when  the  dogs  are 


GERAINT,  THE  SON  OF  ERBIN.  225 

• 

let  loose."  And  thereupon  they  heard  a  loud  noise  ;  and  they 
looked  towards  the  spot  whence  it  came,  and  they  beheld  a 
dwarf  riding  upon  a  horse,  stately  and  foaming  and  prancing 
and  strong  and  spirited.  And  in  the  hand  of  the  dwarf  was  a 
whip.  And  near  the  dwarf-they  saw  a  lady  upon  a  beautiful 
white  horse,  of  steady  and  stately  pace ;  and  she  was  clothed 
in  a  garment  of  gold  brocade.  And  near  her  was  a  knight  upon 
a  war-horse  of  large  size,  with  heavy  and  bright  armor  both 
upon  himself  and  upon  his  horse.  And  truly  they  never  before 
saw  a  knight,  or  a  horse,  or  armor,  of  such  remarkable  size. 

"Geraint,"  said  Guenever,  "knowest  thou  the  name  of  that 
tall  knight  yonder?"  "I  know  him  not,"  said  he,  "and  the 
strange  armor  that  he  wears  prevents  my  either  seeing  his  face 
or  his  features."  "Go,  maiden,"  said  Guenever,  "and  ask  the 
dwarf  who  that  knight  is."  Then  the  maiden  went  up  to  the 
dwarf;  and  she  inquired  of  the  dwarf  who  the  knight  was. 
"  I  will  not  tell  thee,"  he  answered.  "  Since  thou  art  so 
churlish,"  said  she,  "I  will  ask  him,  myself."  "Thou  shalt 
not  ask  him,  by  my  faith,"  said  he.  " Wherefore  not?"  said 
she.  "  Because  thou  art  not  of  honor  sufficient  to  befit  thee  to 
speak  to  my  lord."  Then  the  maiden  turned  her  horse's  head 
towards  the  knight,  upon  which  the  dwarf  struck  her  with  the 
whip  that  was  in  his  hand  across  the  face  and  the  eyes,  so  that 
the  blood  flowed  forth.  And  the  maiden  returned  to  Guenever, 
complaining  of  the  hurt  she  had  received.  "Very  rudely  has 
the  dwarf  treated  thee,"  said  Geraint,  and  he  put  his  hand  upon 
the  hilt  of  his  sword.  But  he  took  counsel  with  himself,  and 
considered  that  it  would  be  no  vengeance  for  him  to  slay  the 
dwarf,  and  to  be  attacked  unarmed  by  the  armed  knight;  so 
he  refrained. 

"Lady,"  said  he,  "I  will  follow  him,  with  thy  permission, 
and  at  last  he  will  come  to  some  inhabited  place,  where  I  may 
have  arms,  either  as  a  loan  or  for  a  pledge,  so  that  I  may 
encounter  the  knight."  "  Go,"  ssid  she,  "  and  do  not  attack 
him  until  thou  hast  good  arms  ;  and  I  shall  be  very  anxious 
concerning  thee,  until  I  hear  tidings  of  thee."  "  If  I  am  alive," 
said  he,  "  thou  shalt  hear  tidings  of  me  by  to-morrow  after 
noon  ; "  and  with  that  he  departed. 


226  THE    MABINOGEON. 

• 

And  the  road  they  took  was  below  the  palace  of  Caerleon, 
and  across  the  ford  of  the  Usk ;  and  they  went  along  a  fair 
and  even  and  lofty  ridge  of  ground,  until  they  came  to  a  town, 
and  at  the  extremity  of  the  town  they  saw  a  fortress  and  a 
castle.  And  as  the  knight  passed  through  the  town,  all  the 
people  arose  and  saluted  him,  and  bade  him  welcome.  And 
when  Geraint  came  into  the  town,  he  looked  at  every  house  to 
see  if  he  knew  any  of  those  whom  he  saw.  But  he  knew 
none,  and  none  knew  him,  to  do  him  the  kindness  to  let  him 
have  arms,  either  as  a  loan  or  for  a  pledge.  And  every  house 
he  saw  was  full  of  men  and  arms  and  horses.  And  they  were 
polishing  shields,  and  burnishing  swords,  and  washing  armor, 
and  shoeing  horses.  And  the  knight  and  the  lady  and  the 
dwarf  rode  up  to  the  castle,  that  was  in  the  town,  and  every 
one  was  glad  in  the  castle.  And  from  the  battlements  and  the 
gates  they  risked  their  necks,  through  their  eagerness  to  greet 
them,  and  to  show  their  joy. 

Geraint  stood  there  to  see  whether  the  knight  would  remain 
in  the  castle  ;  and  when  he  was  certain  that  he  would  do  so,  he 
looked  around  him.  And  at  a  little  distance  from  the  town  he 
saw  an  old  palace  in  ruins,  wherein  was  a  hall  that  was  falling 
to  decay.  And  as  he  knew  not  any  one  in  the  town,  he  went 
towards  the  old  palace.  And  when  he  came  near  to  the  palace, 
he  saw  a  hoary-headed  man,  standing  by  it,  in  tattered  gar 
ments.  And  Geraint  gazed  steadfastly  upon  him.  Then  the 
hoary-headed  man  said  to  him,  "  Young  man,  wherefore  art 
thou  thoughtful  ?  "  "I  am  thoughtful,"  said  he,  "  because  I 
know  not  where  to  pass  the  night."  "  Wilt  thou  come  forward 
this  way,  chieftain,"  said  he,  "  and  thou  shalt  have  of  the  best 
that  can  be  procured  for  thee."  So  Geraint  went  forward. 
And  the  hoary-headed  man  led  the  way  into  the  hall.  And  in 
the  hall  he  dismounted,  and  he  left  there  his  horse.  Then  he 
went  on  to  the  upper  chamber  with  the  hoary-headed  man. 
And  in  the  chamber  he  beheld  an  old  woman,  sitting  on  a 
cushion,  with  old,  worn-out  garments  upon  her;  yet  it  seemed 
to  him  that  she  must  have  been  comely  when  in  the  bloom  of 
youth.  And  beside  her  was  a  maiden,  upon  whom  were  a  vest 
and  a  veil,  that  were  old,  and  beginning  to  be  worn  out.  And 


GERAINT,    THE    SOX    OF    EKBIN.  227 

truly  he  never  saw  a  maiden  more  full  of  comeliness  and  grace 
and  beauty  than  she.  And  the  hoary-headed  man  said  to  the 
maiden,  "  There  is  no  attendant  for  the  horse  of  this  youth  but 
thyself."  "  I  will  render  the  best  service  I  am  able,"  said  she, 
"  both  to  him  and  to  his  "horse."  And  the  maiden  disarrayed 
the  youth,  and  then  she  furnished  his  horse  with  straw  and 
with  corn  ;  and  then  she  returned  to  the  chamber.  And  the 
hoary-headed  man  said  to  the  maiden,  "  Go  to  the  town,  and 
bring  hither  the  best  that  thou  canst  find,  both  of  food  and  of 
liquor."  "  I  will  gladly,  lord,"  said  she.  And  to  the  town 
went  the  maiden.  And  they  conversed  together  while  the 
maiden  was  at  the  town.  And,  behold,  the  maiden  came  back, 
and  a  youth  with  her,  bearing  on  his  back  a  costrel  full  of  good 
purchased  mead,  and  a  quarter  of  a  young  bullock.  And  in 
the  hands  of  the  maiden  was  a  quantity  of  white  bread,  and 
she  had  some  rnanchet  bread  in  her  veil,  and  she  came  into  the 
chamber.  "I  .could  not  obtain  better  than  this,"  said  she, 
"  nor  with  better  should  I  have  been  trusted."  "  It  is  good 
enough,"  said  Geraint.  And  they  caused  the  meat  to  be  boiled  ; 
and  when  their  food  was  ready,  they  sat  down.  And  it  was  in 
this  wise.  Geraint  sat  between  the  hoary-headed  man  and  his 
wife,  and  the  maiden  served  them.  And  they  ate  and  drank. 

And  when  they  had  finished  eating,  Geraint  talked  with  the 
hoary-headed  man,  and  he  asked  him  in  the  first  place  to  whom 
belonged  the  palace  that  he  was  in.  " Truly,"  said  he,  "it  was 
I  that  built  it,  and  to  me  also  belonged  the  city  and  the  castle 
which  thou  sawest."  "Alas!"  said  Geraint,  "how  is  it  that 
thou  hast  lost  them  now?  "  "  I  lost  a  great  earldom  as  well  as 
these,"  said  he,  "  and  this  is  how  I  lost  them.  I  had  a  nephew, 
the  son  of  my  brother,  and  I  took  care  of  his  possessions  ;  but 
he  was  impatient  to  enter  upon  them,  so  he  made  war  upon 
me,  and  wrested  from  me  not  only  his  own,  but  also  my 
estates,  except  this  castle."  "  Good  sir,"  said  Geraint,  "  wilt 
thou  tell  me  wherefore  came  the  knight  and  the  lady  and  the 
dwarf  just  now  into  the  town,  and  what  is  the  preparation 
which  I  saw,  and  the  putting  of  arms  in  order?"  "  I  will  do 
so,"  said  he.  "  The  preparations  are  for  the  game  that  is  to  be 
held  to-morrow  by  the  young  earl,  which  will  be  on  this  wise. 


228  THE    MABINOGEON. 

In  the  midst  of  a  meadow  which  is  here,  two  forks  will  be  set 
up,  and  upon  the  two  forks  a  silver  rod,  and  upon  the  silver 
rod  a  sparrow-hawk,  and  for  the  sparrow-hawk  there  will  be  a 
tournament.  And  to  the  tournament  will  go  all  the  array  thou 
didst  see  in  the  city,  of  men  and  of  horses  and  of  arms.  And 
with  each  man  will  go  the  lady  he  loves  best ;  and  no  man  can 
joust  for  the  sparrow-hawk,  except  the  lady  he  loves  best  be 
with  him.  And  the  knight  that  thou  sawest  has  gained  the 
sparrow-hawk  these  two  years;  and  if  he  gains  it  the  third 
year,  he  will  be  called  the  Knight  of  the  Sparrow-hawk  from 
that  time  forth."  "  Sir,"  said  Geraint,  "  what  is  thy  counsel 
to  me  concerning  this  knight,  on  account  of  the  insult  which 
the  maiden  of  Guenever  received  from  the  dwarf?"  And 
Geraint  told  the  hoary-headed  man  what  the  insult  was  that 
the  maiden  had  received.  "  It  is  not  easy  to  counsel  tliee,  in 
asmuch  as  thou  hast  neither  dame  nor  maiden  belonging  to 
thee,  for  whom  thou  canst  joust.  Yet  I  have  arms  here,  which 
thou  couldst  have,  and  there  is  my  horse  also,  if  he  seem  to 
thee  better  than  thine  own."  "  Ah,  sir,"  said  he,  "  Heaven 
reward  thee !  But  my  own  horse,  to  which  I  am  accustomed, 
together  with  thine  arms,  will  suffice  me.  And  if,  when  the 
appointed  time  shall  come  to-morrow,  thou  wilt  permit  me, 
sir,  to  challenge  for  yonder  maiden  that  is  thy  daughter,  I  will 
engage,  if  I  escape  from  the  tournament,  to  love  the  maiden  as 
long  as  I  live."  "Gladly  will  I  permit  thee,"  said  the  hoary- 
headed  man  ;  "  and  since  thou  dost  thus  resolve,  it  is  necessary 
that  thy  horse  and  arms  should  be  ready  to-morrow  at  break  of 
day.  For  then  the  Knight  of  the  Sparrow-hawk  will  make 
proclamation,  and  ask  the  lady  he  loves  best  to  take  the  spar 
row-hawk;  and  if  any  deny  it  to  her,  by  force  will  he  defend 
her  claim.  And  therefore,"  said  the  hoary-headed  man,  "it  is 
needful  for  thee  to  be  there  at  daybreak,  and  we  three  will  be 
with  thee."  And  thus  was  it  settled. 

And  at  night  they  went  to  sleep.  And  before  the  dawn 
they  arose  and  arrayed  themselves;  and  by  the  time  that  it 
was  day,  they  were  all  four  in  the  meadow.  And  there  was 
the  Knight  of  the  Sparrow-hawk  making  the  proclamation, 
and  asking  his  lady-love  to  take  the  sparrow-hawk.  "Take  it 


GERAINT,    THE    SON    OF   ERBIN.  229 

not,"  said  Geraint,  "  for  here  is  a  maiden  who  is  fairer,  and 
more  noble,  and  more  comely,  and  who  has  a  better  claim  to 
it  than  thou."  Then  said  the  knight,  "  If  thou  maintainest 
the  sparrow-hawk  to  be  due  to  her,  come  forward  and  do  battle 
with  me."  And  Geraint 'went  forward  to  the  top  of  the 
meadow,  having  upon  himself  and  upon  his  horse  armor  which 
was  heavy*,  and  rusty,  and  of  uncouth  shape.  Then  they  en 
countered  each  other,  and  they  broke  a  set  of  lances;  and 
they  broke  a  second  set,  and  a  third.  And  when  the  earl  and 
his  company  saw  the  Knight  of  the  Sparrow-hawk  gaining  the 
mastery,  there  was  shouting  and  joy  and  mirth  amongst  them  ; 
and  the  hoary-headed  man  and  his  wife  and  his  daughter  were 
sorrowful.  And  the  hoary-headed  man  served  Geraint  with 
lances  as  often  as  he  broke  them,  and  the  dwarf  served  the 
Knight  of  the  Sparrow-hawk.  Then  the  hoary-headed  man 
said  to  Geraint,  "  O  chieftain,  since  no  other  will  hold  with 
thee,  behold,  here  is  the  lance  which  was  in  my  hand  on  the 
day  when  I  received  the  honor  of  knighthood,  and  from  that 
time  to  this  I  never  broke  it,  and  it  has  an  excellent  point." 
Then  Geraint  took  the  lance,  thanking  the  hoary-headed  man. 
And  thereupon  the  dwarf  also  brought  a  lance  to  his  lord. 
"  Behold,  here  is  a  lance  for  thee,  not  less  good  than  his,"  said 
the  dwarf.  "And  bethink  thee  that  no  knight  ever  withstood 
thee  so  long  as  this  one  has  done."  "  I  declare  to  Heaven," 
said  Geraint,  "that  unless  death  takes  me  quickly  hence,  he 
shall  fare  never  the  better  for  thy  service."  And  Geraint 
pricked  his  horse  towards  him  from  afar,  and,  warning  him, 
he  rushed  upon  him,  and  gave  him  a  blow  so  severe,  and  furi 
ous,  and  fierce,  upon  the  face  of  his  shield,  that  he  cleft  it  in 
two,  and  broke  his  armor,  and  burst  his  girths,  so  that  both  he 
and  his  saddle  were  borne  to  the  ground  over  the  horse's 
crupper.  And  Geraint  dismounted  quickly.  And  he  was 
wroth,  and  he  drew  his  sword,  and  rushed  fiercely  upon  him. 
Then  the  knight  also  arose,  and  drew  his  sword  against  Ger 
aint.  And  they  fought  on  foot  with  their  swords  until  their 
arms  struck  sparks  of  fire  like  stars  from  one  another ;  and 
thus  they  continued  fighting  until  the  blood  and  sweat  ob 
scured  the  light  from  their  eyes.  At  length  Geraint  called  to 


230  THE    MABINOGEON. 

him  all  his  strength,  and  struck  the  knight  upon  the  crown  of 
his  head,  so  that  lie  broke  all  his  head-armor,  and  cut  through 
all  the  flesh  and  the  skin,  even  to  the  skull,  until  he  wounded 
the  bone. 

Then  the  knight  fell  upon  his  knees,  and  cast  his  sword  from 
his  hand,  and  besought  mercy  from  Geraint.  "Of  a  truth," 
said  he,  "I  relinquish  my  overdaring  and  my  pride,  and  crave 
thy  mercy ;  and  unless  I  have  time  to  commit  myself  to 
Heaven  for  my  sins,  and  to  talk  with  a  priest,  thy  mercy  will 
avail  me  little."  "I  will  grant  thee  grace  upon  this  condition," 
said  Geraint;  "that  thou  go  to  Guenever,  the  wife  of  Arthur, 
to  do  her  satisfaction  for  the  insult  which  her  maiden  received 
from  thy  dwarf.  Dismount  not  from  the  time  thou  goest 
hence  until  thou  comest  into  the  presence  of  Guenever,  to 
make  her  what  atonement  shall  be  adjudged  at  the  court  of 
Arthur."  "This  will  I  do  gladly;  and  who  art  thou?"  "I 
am  Geraint,  the  son  of  Erbin ;  and  declare  thou  also  who 
thou  art."  "I  am  Edeyrn,  the  son  of  Nudd."  Then  he  threw 
himself  upon  his  horse,  and  went  forward  to  Arthur's  court ; 
and  the  lady  he  loved  best  went  before  him,  and  the  dwarf, 
with  much  lamentation. 

Then  came  the  young  earl  and  his  hosts  to  Geraint,  and 
saluted  him,  and  bade  him  to  his  castle.  "I  may  not  go," 
said  Geraint;  "but  where  I  was  last  night,  there  will  I  be 
to-night  also."  "  Since  thou  wilt  none  of  my  inviting,  thou 
shalt  have  abundance  of  all  that  I  can  command  for  thee ;  and 
I  will  order  ointment  for  thee,  to  recover  thee  from  thy  fa 
tigues,  and  from  the  weariness  that  is  upon  thee."  "  Heaven 
reward  thee,"  said  Geraint,  "  and  I  will  go  to  my  lodging." 
And  thus  went  Geraint  and  Earl  Ynywl,  and  his  wife  and  his 
daughter.  And  when  they  reached  the  old  mansion,  the 
household  servants  and  attendants  of  the  young  earl  had 
arrived,  and  had  arranged  all  the  apartments,  dressing  them 
with  straw  and  with  fire;  and  in  a  short  time  the  ointment 
was  ready,  and  Geraint  came  there,  and  they  washed  his  head. 
Then  came  the  young  earl,  with  forty  honorable  knights  from 
among  his  attendants,  and  those  who  were  bidden  to  the  tour 
nament.  And  Geraint  came  from  the  anointing.  And  the 


GERAINT,  THE  SON  OF  ERBIN.  231 

earl  asked  him  to  go  to  the  hall  to  eat.  "Where  is  the  Earl 
Ynwyl,"  said  Geraint,  "and  his  wife  and  his  daughter?" 
"  They  are  in  the  chamber  yonder,"  said  the  earl's  chamber 
lain,  "arraying  themselves  in  garments  which  the  earl  has 
caused  to  be  brought  for  the^m."  "  Let  not  the  damsel  array 
herself,"  said  he,  "  except  in  her  vest  and  her  veil,  until  she 
come  to  the  court  of  Arthur,  to  be  clad  by  Guenever  in  such 
garments  as  she  may  choose."  So  the  maiden  did  not  array 
herself. 

Then  they  all  entered  the  hall,  and  they  washed,  and  sat 
down  to  meat.  And  thus  were  they  seated.  On  one  side  of 
Geraint  sat  the  young  earl,  and  Earl  Ynywl  beyond  him,  and 
on  the  other  side  of  Geraint  was  the  maiden  and  her  mother. 
And  after  these  all  sat  according  to  their  precedence  in  honor. 
And  they  ate.  And  they  were  served  abundantly,  and  they 
received  a  profusion  of  divers  kinds  of  gifts.  Then  they  con 
versed  together.  And  the  young  earl  invited  Geraint  to  visit 
him  next  day.  "  I  will  not,  by  Heaven,"  said  Geraint.  "  To 
the  court  of  Arthur  will  I  go  with  this  maiden  to-morrow. 
And  it  is  enough  for  me,  as  long  as  Earl  Ynywl  is  in  poverty 
and  trouble  ;  and  I  go  chiefly  to  seek  to  add  to  his  mainten 
ance."  "  Ah,  chieftain,"  said  the  young  earl,  "it  is  not  by  my 
fault  that  Earl  Ynywl  is  without  his  possessions."  "  By  my 
faith,"  said  Geraint,  "  he  shall  not  remain  without  them,  unless 
death  quickly  takes  me  hence."  "O  chieftain,"  said  he,  "with 
regard  to  the  disagreement  between  me  and  Ynywl,  I  will 
gladly  abide  by  thy  counsel,  and  agree  to  what  thou  mayest 
judge  right  between  us."  "  I  but  ask  thee,"  said  Geraint,  "  to 
restore  to  him  what  is  his,  and  what  he  should  have  received 
from  the  time  he  lost  his  possessions  even  until  this  day." 
"That  will  I  do,  gladly,  for  thee,"  answered  he.  "Then," 
said  Geraint,  "  whosoever  is  here  who  owes  homage  to  Ynywl, 
let  him  come  forward,  and  perform  it  on  the  spot."  And  all 
the  men  did  so;  and  by  that  treaty  they  abided.  And  his 
castle  and  his  town,  and  all  his  possessions,  were  restored  to 
Ynywl.  And  he  received  back  all  that  he  had  lost,  even  to 
the  smallest  jewel. 

Then  spoke  Earl  Ynywl  to  Geraint.     "  Chieftain,"  said  he, 


232  THE    MABINOGEON. 

*  behold  the  maiden  for  whom  thou  didst  challenge  at  the 
tournament ;  I  bestow  her  upon  thee."  "  She  shall  go  with 
me,"  said  Geraint,  "  to  the  court  of  Arthur,  and  Arthur  and 
Guenever,  they  shall  dispose  of  her  as  they  will."  And  the 
next  day  they  proceeded  to  Arthur's  court.  So  far  concerning 
Geraint. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


GERAINT,  THE  SON  OF  ERBIN,  CONTINUED. 

NOW  this  is  how  Arthur  hunted  the  stag.  The  men  and 
the  dogs  were  divided  into  hunting-parties,  and  the  dogs 
were  let  loose  upon  the  stag.  And  the  last  dog  that  was  let 
loose  was  the  favorite  dog  of  Arthur,  Cavall  was  his  name. 
And  he  left  all  the  other  dogs  behind  him,  and  turned  the  stag. 
And  at  the  second  turn  the  stag  came  toward  the  hunting-party 
of  Arthur.  And  Arthur  set  upon  him,  and  before  he  could 
be  slain  by  any  other  Arthur  cut  off  his  head.  Then  they 
sounded  the  death-horn  for  slaying,  and  they  all  gathered 
round. 

Then  came  Kadyriath  to  Arthur,  and  spoke  to  him.  "  Lord," 
said  he,  "behold,  yonder  is  Guenever,  and  none  with  her  save 
only  one  maiden."  "  Command  Gildas,  the  son  of  Caw,  and  all 
the  scholars  of  the  court,"  said  Arthur,  "to  attend  Guenever 
to  the  palace."  And  they  did  so. 

Then  they  all  set  forth,  holding  converse  together  concern 
ing  the  head  of  the  stag,  to  whom  it  should  be  given.  One 

233 


234  THE    MABINOGEON. 

wished  that  it  should  be  given  to  the  lady  best  beloved  by  him 
and  another  to  the  lady  whom  he  loved  best.  And  so  they 
came  to  the  palace.  And  when  Arthur  and  Guenever  heard 
them  disputing  about  the  head  of  the  stag,  Guenever  said  to 
Arthur,  "  My  lord,  this  is  my  counsel  concerning  the  stag's 
head;  let  it  not  be  given  away  until  Geraint,  the  son  of  Erbin, 
shall  return  from  the  errand  he  is  upon."  And  Guenever  told 
Arthur  what  that  errand  was.  "  Right  gladly  shall  it  be  so,"  said 
Arthur.  And  Guenever  caused  a  watch  to  be  set  upon  the 
ramparts  for  Geraint's  coming.  And  after  midday  they  beheld 
an  unshapely  little  man  upon  a  horse,  and  after  him  a  dame  or  a 
damsel,  also  on  horseback,  and  after  her  a  knight  of  large  stat 
ure,  bowed  down,  and  hanging  his  head  low  and  sorrowfully, 
and  clad  in  broken  and  worthless  armor. 

And  before  they  came  near  to  the  gate  one  of  the  watch 
went  to  Guenever,  and  told  her  what  kind  of  people  they  saw, 
and  what  aspect  they  bore.  "  I  know  not  who  they  are,"  said 
he.  "  But  I  know,"  said  Guenever ;  "  this  is  the  knight  whom 
Geraint  pursued,  and  methinks  lie  comes  not  here  by  his  own 
free  will.  But  Geraint  has  overtaken  him,  and  avenged  the 
insult  to  the  maiden  to  the  uttermost."  And  thereupon,  be 
hold,  a  porter  came  to  the  spot  where  Guenever  was.  "  Lady," 
said  he,  "at  the  gate  there  is  a  knight,  and  I  saw  never  a  man 
of  so  pitiful  an  aspect  to  look  upon  as  he.  Miserable  and  broken 
is  the  armor  that  he  wears,  and  the  hue  of  blood  is  more 
conspicuous  upon  it  than  its  own  color."  "  Knowest  thou  his 
name?"  said  she.  "  I  do,"  said  he;  "he  tells  me  that  he  is 
Edeyrn,  the  son  of  Nudd."  Then  she  replied,  "  I  know  him 
not." 

So  Guenever  went  to  the  gate  to  meet  him,  and  he  entered. 
And  Guenever  was  sorry  when  she  saw  the  condition  he  was 
in,  even  though  he  was  accompanied  by  the  churlish  dwarf. 
Then  Edeyrn  saluted  Guenever.  "  Heaven  protect  thee,"  said 
she.  "Lady,"  said  he,  "Geraint,  the  son  of  Erbin,  thy  best 
and  most  valiant  servant,  greets  thee."  "Did  he  meet  with 
thee?"  she  asked.  "Yes,"  said  he,  "  and  it  was  not  to  my  ad 
vantage  ;  and  that  was  not  his  fault,  but  mine,  lady.  And 
Geraint  greets  thee  well ;  and  in  greeting  thee  he  compelled 


GERAINT,  THE    SON    OF    ERBIN.  235 

me  to  come  hither  to  do  thy  pleasure  for  the  insult  which  thy 
maiden  received  from  the  dwarf."  "Now  where  did  he  over 
take  thee?"  "At  the  place  where  we  were  jousting  and  con 
tending  for  the  sparrow-hawk,  in  the  town  which  is  now  called 
Cardiff.  And  it  was  for  th'fc  avouchment  of  the  love  of  the 
maiden,  the  daughter  of  Earl  Ynywl,  that  Geraint  jousted  at 
the  tournament.  And  thereupon  we  encountered  each  other, 
and  he  left  me,  lady,  as  thou  seest."  "  Sir,"  said  she,  "  when 
thinkest  thou  that  Geraint  will  be  here?"  "To-morrow,  lady, 
I  think  he  will  be  here  with  the  maiden." 

Then  Arthur  came  to  them.  And  he  saluted  Arthur,  and 
Arthur  gazed  a  long  time  upon  him,  and  was  amazed  to  see 
him  thus.  And  thinking  that  he  knew  him,  he  inquired  of 
him,  "Art  thou  Edeyrn,  the  son  of  Nudd?"  "I  am,  lord," 
said  he,  "and  I  have  met  with  much  trouble  and  received 
wounds  insupportable."  Then  he  told  Arthur  all  his  adven 
ture.  "Well,"  said  Arthur,  "from  what  I  hear  it  behooves 
Guenever  to  be  merciful  towards  thee."  "The  mercy  which 
thou  desirest,  lord,"  said  she,  "  will  I  grant  to  him,  since  it  is 
as  insulting  to  thee  that  an  insult  should  be  offered  to  me  as  to 
thyself."  "  Thus  will  it  be  best  to  do,"  said  Arthur;  "let  this 
man  have  medical  care  until  it  be  known  whether  he  may  live. 
And  if  he  live  he  shall  do  such  satisfaction  as  shall  be  judged 
best  by  the  men  of  the  court.  And  if  he  die  too  much  will  be 
the  death  of  such  a  youth  as  Edeyrn  for  an  insult  to  a  maiden." 
"This  pleases  me,"  said  Guenever.  And  Arthur  caused  Mor 
gan  Tud  to  be  called  to  him.  He  was  chief  physician.  "  Take 
with  thee  Edeyrn,  the  son  of  Nudd,  and  cause  a  chamber  to 
be  prepared  for  him,  and  let  him  have  the  aid  of  medicine  as 
thou  wouldst  do  unto  myself  if  I  were  wounded;  and  let  none 
into  his  chamber  to  molest  him,  but  thyself  and  thy  disciples, 
to  administer  to  him  remedies."  "I  will  do  so  gladly,  lord," 
said  Morgan  Tud.  Then  said  the  steward  of  the  household, 
"  Whither  is  it  right,  lord,  to  order  the  maiden  ?  "  "  To  Guen 
ever  and  her  handmaidens,"  said  he.  And  the  steward  of  the 
household  so  ordered  her. 

The  next  day  came  Geraint  towards  the  court ;  and  there 
was  a  watch  set  on  the  ramparts  by  Guenever,  lest  he  should 


236  THE    MABINOGEON. 

arrive  unawares.  And  one  of  the  watch  came  to  Guenever. 
"Lady,"  said  he,  "methinks  that  I  see  Geraint,  and  a  maiden 
with  him.  He  is  on  horseback,  but  he  has  his  walking  gear 
upon  him,  and  the  maiden  appears  to  be  in  white,  seeming  to 
be  clad  in  a  garment  of  linen."  "Assemble  all  the  women," 
said  Guenever,  "and  come  to  meet  Geraint,  to  welcome  him 
and  wish  him  joy."  And  Guenever  went  to  meet  Geraint  and 
the  maiden.  And  when  Geraint  came  to  the  place  where 
Guenever  was  he  saluted  her.  "Heaven  prosper  thee,"  said 
she,  "and  welcome  to  thee."  "Lady,"  said  he,  "I  earnestly 
desired  to  obtain  thee  satisfaction,  according  to  thy  will ;  and, 
behold,  here  is  the  maiden  through  whom  thou  hadst  thy  re 
venge."  "  Verily,"  said  Guenever,  "  the  welcome  of  Heaven 
be  unto  her;  and  it  is  fitting  that  we  should  receive  her  joy 
fully."  Then  they  went  in  and  dismounted.  And  Geraint 
came  to  where  Arthur  was,  and  saluted  him.  "  Heaven  pro 
tect  thee,"  said  Arthur,  "  and  the  welcome  of  Heaven  be  unto 
thee.  And  inasmuch  as  thou  hast  vanquished  Edeyrn,  the  son 
of  Nudd,  thou  hast  had  a  prosperous  career."  "  Not  upon  me 
be  the  blame,"  said  Geraint;  "it  was  through  the  arrogance  of 
Edeyrn,  the  son  of  Nudd,  himself,  that  we  were  not  friends." 
"Now,"  said  Arthur,  "  where  is  the  maiden  for  whom  I  heard 
thou  didst  give  challenge?"  "  She  is  gone  with  Guenever  to 
her  chamber."  Then  went  Arthur  to  see  the  maiden.  And 
Arthur,  and  all  his  companions,  and  his  whole  court,  were  glad 
concerning  the  maiden.  And  certain  were  they  all  that,  had  her 
array  been  suitable  to  her  beauty,  they  had  never  seen  a  maid 
fairer  than  she.  And  Arthur  gave  away  the  maiden  to  Geraint. 
And  the  usual  bond  made  between  two  persons  was  made  be 
tween  Geraint  and  the  maiden,  and  the  choicest  of  all  Guen- 
ever's  apparel  was  given  to  the  maiden  ;  and  thus  arrayed,  she 
appeared  comely  and  graceful  to  all  who  beheld  her.  And  that 
day  and  the  night  were  spent  in  abundance  of  minstrelsy,  and 
ample  gifts  of  liquor,  and  a  multitude  of  games.  And  when  it 
was  time  for  them  to  go  to  sleep  they  went.  And  in  the  cham 
ber  where  the  couch  of  Arthur  and  Guenever  was  the  couch  of 
Geraint  and  Enid  was  prepared.  And  from  that  time  she  be 
came  his  wife.  And  the  next  day  Arthur  satisfied  all  the 


GERAINT,  THE    SON    OF    ERBIN.  237 

claimants  upon  Geraint  with  bountiful  gifts.  And  the  maiden 
took  up  her  abode  in  the  palace,  and  she  had  many  compan 
ions,  both  men  and  women,  and  there  was  no  maiden  more 
esteemed  than  sjie  in  the  island  of  Britain. 

Then  spake  Guenever.  -."Rightly  did  I  judge,"  said  she, 
"  concerning  the  head  of  the  stag,  that  it  should  not  be  given 
to  any  until  Geraint's  return;  and  behold,  here  is  a  fit  occasion 
for  bestowing  it.  Let  it  be  given  to  Enid,  the  daughter  of 
Yny  wl,  the  most  illustrious  maiden.  And  I  do  not  believe  any 
will  begrudge  it  her,  for  between  her  and  every  one  there 
exists  nothing  but  love  and  friendship."  Much  applauded 
was  this  by  them  all,  and  by  Arthur  also.  And  the  head  of 
the  stag  was  given  to  Enid.  And  thereupon  her  fame  in 
creased,  and  her  friends  became  more  in  number  than  before. 
And  Geraint  from  that  time  forth  loved  the  hunt,  and  the 
tournament,  and  hard  encounters;  and  he  came  victorious 
from  them  all.  And  a  year,  and  a  second,  and  a  third,  he 
proceeded  thus,  until  his  fame  had  flown  over  the  face  of  the 
kingdom. 

And,  once  upon  a  time,  Arthur  was  holding  his  court  at 
Caerleon  upon  Usk;  and  behold,  there  came  to  him  ambas 
sadors,  wise  and  prudent,  full  of  knowledge  and  eloquent  of 
speech,  and  they  saluted  Arthur.  "Heaven  prosper  you  !"  said 
Arthur;  "and  whence  do  you  come?"  "We  come,  lord," 
said  they,  "  from  Cornwall,  and  we  are  ambassadors  from 
Erbin,  the  son  of  Custennin,  thy  uncle,  and  our  mission  is  unto 
thee.  And  he  greets  thee  well,  as  an  uncle  should  greet  his 
nephew,  and  as  a  vassal  should  greet  his  lord.  And  he  rep 
resents  unto  thee  that  he  waxes  heavy  and  feeble,  and  is 
advancing  in  years.  And  the  neighboring  chiefs,  knowing 
this,  grow  insolent  towards  him,  and  covet  his  land  and 
possessions.  And  he  earnestly  beseeches  thee,  lord,  to  permit 
Geraint  his  son  to  return  to  him,  to  protect  his  possessions,  and 
to  become  acquainted  with  his  boundaries.  And  unto  him  he 
represents  that  it  were  better  for  him  to  spend  the  flower  of 
his  youth  and  the  prime  of  his  age  in  preserving  his  own 
boundaries,  than  in  tournaments  which  are  productive  of  no 
profit,  although  he  obtains  glory  in  them." 


238  THE    AIABINOGEOX. 

"  Well,"  said  Arthur,  "  go  and  divest  yourselves  of  your 
accoutrements,  and  take  food,  and  refresh  yourselves  after 
your  fatigues  ;  and  before  you  go  from  hence  you  shall  have  an 
answer."  And  they  went  to  eat.  And  Arthur  considered 
that  it  would  go  hard  with  him  to  let  Geraint  depart  from  him, 
and  from  his  court;  neither  did  he  think  it  fair  that  his  cousin 
should  be  restrained  from  going  to  protect  his  dominions  and 
his  boundaries,  seeing  that  his  father  was  unable  to  do  so.  No 
less  was  the  grief  and  regret  of  Guenever,  and  all  her  women, 
and  all  her  damsels,  through  fear  that  the  maiden  would  leave 
them.  And  that  day  and  that  night  was  spent  in  abundance 
of  feasting.  And  Arthur  told  Geraint  the  cause  of  the  mission, 
and  of  the  coming  of  the  ambassadors  to  him  out  of  Cornwall. 
"Truly,"  said  Geraint,  "be  it  to  my  advantage  or  disadvan 
tage,  lord,  I  will  do  according  to  thy  will  concerning  this 
embassy."  "Behold,"  said  Arthur,  "though  it  grieves  me  to 
part  with  thee,  it  is  my  counsel  that  thou  go  to  dwell  in  thine 
own  dominions,  and  to  defend  thy  boundaries,  and  take  with 
thee  to  accompany  thee  as  many  as  thou  wilt  of  those  thou 
lovest  best  among  my  faithful  ones,  and  among  thy  friends, 
and  among  thy  companions  in  arms."  "Heaven  reward  thee  i 
and  this  will  I  do,"  said  Geraint.  "  What  discourse,"  said 
Guenever,  "do  I  hear  between  you  ?  Is  it  of  those  who  are  to 
conduct  Geraint  to  his  country?"  "It  is,"  said  Arthur. 
"Then  it  is  needful  for  me  to  consider,"  said  she,  "concerning 
companions  and  a  provision  for  the  lady  that  is  with  me." 
"  Thou  wilt  do  well,"  said  Arthur. 

And  that  night  they  went  to  sleep.  And  the  next  day  the 
ambassadors  were  permitted  to  depart,  and  they  were  told  that 
Geraint  should  follow  them.  And  on  the  third  day  Geraint 
set  forth,  and  many  went  with  him,  —  Gawain,  the  son  of 
Gwyar,  and  Riogoned,  the  son  of  the  king  of  Ireland,  and 
Ondyaw,  the  son  of  the  Duke  of  Burgundy,  Gwilim,  the  son  of 
the  ruler  of  the  Franks,  Howel,  the  son  of  the  Earl  of  Brittany, 
Perceval,  the  son  of  Evrawk,  Gwyr,  a  jndge  in  the  court  of 
Arthur,  Bodwyr,  the  son  of  Bedrawd,  Kai,  the  son  of  Kyner, 
Odyar,  the  Frank,  and  Edeyrn,  the  son  of  Nudd.  Said  Geraint, 
"  I  think  I  shall  have  enough  of  knighthood  with  me."  And 


GERAINT,  THE  SON  OF  ERBIN.  239 

they  set  forth.  And  never  was  there  seen  a  fairer  host 
journeying  towards  the  Severn.  And  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Severn  were  the  nobles  of  Erbin,  the  son  of  Custennin,  and  his 
foster-father  at  their  head,  to  welcome  Geraint  with  gladness  ; 
and  many  of  the  women  of"  the  court,  with  his  mother,  came 
to  receive  Enid,  the  daughter  of  Ynywl,  his  wife.  And  there 
was  great  rejoicing  and  gladness  throughout  the  whole  court, 
and  through  all  the  country,  concerning  Geraint,  because  of 
the  greatness  of  their  love  to  him,  and  of  the  greatness  of  the 
fame  which  he  had  gained  since  he  went  from  amongst  them, 
and  because  he  was  come  to  take  possession  of  his  dominions, 
and  to  preserve  his  boundaries.  And  they  came  to  the  court. 
And  in  the  court  they  had  ample  entertainment,  and  a  multi 
tude  of  gifts,  and  abundance  of  liquor,  and  a  sufficiency  of 
service,  and  a  variety  of  games.  And  to  do  honor  to  Geraint, 
all  the  chief  men  of  the  country  were  invited  that  night  to 
visit  him.  And  they  passed  that  day  and  that  night  in  the 
utmost  enjoyment.  And  at  dawn  next  day  Erbin  arose,  and 
summoned  to  him  Geraint,  and  the  noble  persons  who  had 
borne  him  company.  And  he  said  to  Geraint :  "  I  am  a  feeble 
and  an  aged  man,  and  whilst  I  was  able  to  maintain  the 
dominion  for  thee  and  for  myself,  I  did  so.  But  thou  art 
young,  and  in  the  flower  of  thy  vigor  and  of  thy  youth. 
Henceforth  do  thou  preserve  thy  possessions."  "  Truly," 
said  Geraint,  "  with  my  consent  thou  shalt  not  give  the  power 
over  thy  dominions  at  this  time  into  my  hands,  and  thou  shalt 
not  take  me  from  Arthur's  court."  "Into  thy  hands  will  I 
give  them,"  said  Erbin,  "and  this  day  shalt  thou  receive  the 
homage  of  thy  subjects." 

Then  said  Gawain,  "  It  were  better  for  thee  to  satisfy  those 
who  have  boons  to  ask,  to-day,  and  to-morrow  thou  canst 
receive  the  homage  of  thy  dominions."  So  all  that  had  boons 
to  ask  were  summoned  into  one  place.  And  Kadyriath  came 
to  them  to  know  what  were  the  requests.  And  every  one 
usked  that  which  he  desired.  And  the  followers  of  Arthur 
began  to  make  gifts,  and  immediately  the  men  of  Cornwall 
eame,  and  gave  also.  And  they  were  not  long  in  giving,  so 
eager  was  every  one  to  bestow  gifts.  And  of  those  who  came 


240  THE    MABINOGEOX. 

to  ask  gifts,  none  departed  unsatisfied.    And  that  day  and  that 
night  were  spent  in  the  utmost  enjoyment. 

And  the  next  day  at  dawn  Erbin  desired  Geraint  to  send 
messengers  to  the  men  to  ask  them  whether  it  was  displeasing 
to  them  that  he  should  come  to  receive  their  homage,  and 
whether  they  had  anything  to  object  to  him.  Then  Geraint 
sent  ambassadors  to  the  men  of  Cornwall  to  ask  them  this. 
And  they  all  said  that  it  would  be  the  fulness  of  joy  and  honor 
to  them  for  Geraint  to  come  and  receive  their  homage.  So  he 
received  the  homage  of  such  as  were  there.  And  the  day 
after,  the  followers  of  Arthur  intended  to  go  away.  "  It  is  too 
soon  for  you  to  go  away  yet,"  said  he ;  "  stay  with  me  until  I 
have  finished  receiving  the  homage  of  my  chief  men,  who  have 
agreed  to  come  to  me."  And  they  remained  with  him  until 
he  had  done  so.  Then  they  set  forth  towards  the  court  of 
Arthur.  And  Geraint  went  to  bear  them  company,  and  Enid 
also,  as  far  as  Diganwy;  there  they  parted.  And  Ondyaw, 
the  son  of  the  Duke  of  Burgundy,  said  to  Geraint,  "  Go,  now, 
and  visit  the  uttermost  parts  of  thy  dominions,  and  see  well  to 
the  boundaries  of  thy  territories ;  and  if  thou  hast  any  trouble 
respecting  them,  send  unto  thy  companions."  "  Heaven  reward 
thee ! "  said  Geraint;  "and  this  will  I  do."  And  Geraint 
journeyed  to  the  uttermost  parts  of  his  dominions.  And 
experienced  guides,  and  the  chief  men  of  his  country,  went 
with  him.  And  the  furthermost  point  that  they  showed  him 
he  kept  possession  of. 


CHAPTER  X-XV. 

GERAINT,   THE  SON  OF  ERBIN,   CONTINUED. 

ERALNT,  as  he  liacl  been  used  to  do  when  lie  was  at 
Arthur's  court,  frequented  tournaments.  And  he  became 
acquainted  with  valiant  and  mighty  men,  until  he  had  gained  as 
much  fame  there  as  he  had  formerly  done  elsewhere.  And  he 
enriched  his  court,  and  his  companions,  and  his  nobles,  with 
the  best  horses  and  the  best  arms,  and  with  the  best  and  most 
valuable  jewels,  and  he  ceased  not  until  his  fame  had  flown 
over  the  face  of  the  whole  kingdom,  \yiien  he  knew  that  it 
wras  thus,  he  began  to  love  ease  and  pleasure,  for  there  was  no 
one  who  was  worth  his  opposing.  And  he  loved  his  wife,  and 
liked  to  continue  in  the  palace,  with  minstrelsy  and  diversions. 
So  he  began  to  shut  himself  up  in  the  chamber  of  his  wife,  and 
he  took  no  delight  in  anything  besides,  insomuch  that  he  gave 
up  the  friendship  of  his  nobles,  together  with  his  hunting  and 
liis  amusements,  and  lost  the  hearts  of  all  the  host  in  his  court. 
And  there  was  murmuring  and  scoffing  concerning  him  among 
the  inhabitants  of  the  palace,  on  account  of  his  relinquishing  so 

241 


242  THE    MABINOGEON. 

completely  their  companionship  for  the  love  of  his  wife.  These 
tidings  came  to  Erbin.  And  when  Erbin  had  heard  these 
things,  he  spoke  unto  Enid,  and  inquired  of  her  whether  it  was 
she  that  had  caused  Geraint  to  act  thus,  and  to  forsake  his 
people  and  his  hosts.  "Not  I,  by  my  confession  unto  heaven," 
said  she;  "there  is  nothing  more  hateful  unto  me  than  this." 
And  she  knew  not  what  she  should  do,  for,  although  it  was  hard 
for  her  to  own  this  to  Geraint,  yet  was  it  not  more  easy  for  her 
to  listen  to  what  she  heard,  without  warning  Geraint  concerning 
it.  And  she  was  very  sorrowful. 

One  morning  in  the  summer-time  they  were  upon  their  couch, 
and  Geraint  lay  upon  the  edge  of  it.  And  Enid  was  without 
sleep  in  the  apartment,  which  had  windows  of  glass;*  and  the 
sun  shone  upon  the  couch.  And  the  clothes  had  slipped  from 
off  his  arms  and  his  breast,  and  he  was  asleep.  Then  she 
gazed  upon  the  marvellous  beauty  of  his  appearance,  and  she 
said,  "  Alas  !  and  am  I  the  cause  that  these  arms  and  this  breast 
have  lost  their  glory,  and  the  warlike  fame  which  they  once  so 
richly  enjoyed?"  As  she  said  this  the  tears  dropped  from  her 
eyes,  and  they  fell  upon  his  breast.  And  the  tears  she  shed, 
and  the  words  she  had  spoken,  awoke  him.  And  another  thing 
contributed  to  awaken  him,  and  that  was  the  idea  that  it  was 
not  in  thinking  of  him  that  she  spoke  thus,  but  that  it  was  be 
cause  she  loved  some  other  man  more  than  him,  and  that  she 
wished  for  other  society.  Thereupon  Geraint  was  troubled 
in  his  mind,  and  he  called  his  squire;  and  when  he  came  to 
him,  "  Go  quickly,"  said  he,  u  and  prepare  my  horse  and  my 
arms,  and  make  them  ready.  And  do  thou  arise,"  said  he  to 
Enid,  "  and  apparel  thyself ;  and  cause  thy  horse  to  be  accou 
tred,  and  clothe  thee  in  the  worst  riding-dress  that  thou  hast 
in  thy  possession.  And  evil  betide  me,"  said  he,  "  if  thou  re- 
turnest  here  until  thou  knowest  whether  I  have  lost  my  strength 

*  The  terms  of  admiration  in  which  the  older  writers  invariably  speak  of  qlass 
windows  would  be  sufficient  proof,  if  other  evidence  were  wanting,  how  rare  an 
article  of  luxury  they  were  in  the  houses  of  our  ancestors.  They  were  first  intro 
duced  in  ecclesiastical  architecture,  to  which  they  were  for  a  long  time  confined. 
Glass  is  said  not  to  have  been  employed  in  domestic  architecture  before  the  four 
teenth  century. 


GERAINT,  THE    SON    OF    ERBIN.  243 

so  completely  as  thou  didst  say.  And  if  it  be  so,  it  will  then 
be  easy  for  thee  to  seek  the  society  thou  didst  wish  for  of  him 
of  whom  thou  wast  thinking."  So  she  arose,  and  clothed  her 
self  in  her  meanest  garments.  "I  know  nothing,  lord."  said 
she,  "  of  thy  meaning."  "  Neither  wilt  thou  know  at  this  time," 
said  he. 

Then  Geraint  went  to  see  Erbin.  "  Sir,"  said  he,  "  I  am 
going  upon  a  quest,  and  I  am  not  certain  when  I  may  come 
back.  Take  heed,  therefore,  unto  thy  possessions  until  my  re 
turn."  "  I  will  do  so,"  said  he  ;  "  but  it  is  strange  to  me  tfyat 
thou  shouldst  go  so  suddenly.  And  who  will  proceed  with 
thee,  since  thou  art  not  strong  enough  to  traverse  the  land  of 
Loegyr  alone  ? "  "  But  one  person  only  will  go  with  me." 
"  Heaven  counsel  thee,  my  son,"  said  Erbin,  "  and  may  many 
attach  themselves  to  thee  in  Loegyr."  Then  went  Geraint  to 
the  place  where  his  horse  wa ;,  and  it  was  equipped  with  foreign 
armor,  heavy  and  shining.  And  he  desired  Enid  to  mount  her 
horse,  and  to  ride  forward,  and  to  keep  a  long  way  before  him. 
"  And  whatever  thou  mayest  see,  and  whatever  thou  mayest 
hear  concerning  me,"  said  he,  "do  thou  not  turn  back.  And 
unless  I  speak  unto  thee,  say  not  thou  one  word  either."  So 
they  set  forward.  And  he  did  not  choose  the  pleasantest  and 
most  frequented  road,  but  that  which  was  the  wildest  and  most 
beset  by  thieves  and  robbers  and  venomous  animals. 

And  they  came  to  a  high-road,  which  they  followed  till  they 
saw  a  vast  forest ;  and  they  saw  four  armed  horsemen  come 
forth  from  the  forest.  When  the  armed  men  saw  them,  they 
said  one  to  another,  "  Here  is  a  good  occasion  for  us  to  capture 
two  horses  and  armor,  and  a  lady  likewise ;  for  this  we  shall 
have  no  difficulty  in  doing  against  yonder  single  knight,  who 
hangs  his  head  so  pensively  and  heavily."  Enid  heard  this 
discourse,  and  she  knew  not  what  she  should  do  through  fear 
of  Geraint,  who  had  told  her  to  be  silent.  "  The  vengeance  of 
Heaven  be  upon  me,"  said  she,  "  if  I  would  not  rather  receive 
my  death  from  his  hand  than  from  the  hand  of  any  other;  and 
though  he  should  slay  me,  yet  will  I  speak  to  him,  lest  I  should 
have  the  misery  to  witness  his  death."  So  she  waited  for 
Geraint  until  he  came  near  to  her.  "  Lord,"  said  she,  "  didst 

^^ 


244  TILE    MABINOGEON. 

thou  hear  the  words  of  those  men  concerning  thee  ?  "  Then 
lie  lifted  up  his  eyes,  and  looked  at  her  angrily.  "  Thou  hadst 
only,"  said  he,  "  to  hold  thy  peace,  as  I  bade  thee.  I  wish  but 
for  silence,  and  not  for  warning.  And  though  thou  shouldest 
desire  to  see  my  defeat  and  my  death  by  the  hands  of  those 
men,  yet  I  do  feel  no  dread."  Then  the  foremost  of  them 
couched  his  lance,  and  rushed  upon  Geraint.  And  he  received 
him,  and  that  not  feebly.  But  he  let  the  thrust  go  by  him, 
while  he  struck  the  horseman  upon  the  centre  of  the  shield,  in 
such  a  manner  that  his  shield  was  split,  and  his  armor  broken, 
so  that  a  cubit's  length  of  the  shaft  of  Geraint's  lance  passed 
through  his  body,  and  sent  him  to  the  earth,  the  length  of 
the  lance  over  his  horse's  crupper.  Then  the  second  horseman 
attacked  him  furiously,  being  wroth  at  the  death  of  his  com 
panion.  But  with  one  thrust  Geraint  overthrew  him  also,,  and 
killed  him  as  he  had  done  the  other.  Then  the  third  set  upon 
him,  and  he  killed  him  in  like  manner.  And  thus  also  he  slew 
the  fourth.  Sad  arid  sorrowful  was  the  maiden  as  she  saw  all 
this.  Geraint  dismounted  his  horse,  and  took  the  arms  of  the 
men  he  had  slain,  and  placed  them  upon  their  saddles,  and  tied 
together  the  reins  of  their  horses ;  and  he  mounted  his  horse 
again.  "Behold  what  thou  must  do,"  said  he;  "take  the  four 
horses,  and  drive  them  before  thee,  and  proceed  forward  as  I 
bade  thee  just  now.  And  say  not  one  word  unto  me,  unless  I 
speak  first  unto  thee.  And  I  declare  unto  Heaven,"  said  he, 
"  if  thou  doest  not  thus,  it  will  be  to  thy  cost."  "  I  will  do  as 
far  as  I  can,  lord,"  said  she,  "  according  to  thy  desire." 

So  the  maiden  went  forward,  keeping  in  advance  of  Geraint, 
as  he  had  desired  her;  and  it  grieved  him  as  much  as  his  wrath 
would  permit  to  see  a  maiden  so  illustrious  as  she  having  so 
much  trouble  with  the  care  of  the  horses.  Then  they  reached 
a  wood,  and  it  was  both  deep  and  vast,  and  in  the  wood  night 
overtook  them.  "Ah,  maiden,"  said  he,  "  it  is  vain  to  attempt 
proceeding  forward."  "Well,  lord,"  said  she,  "  whatever  thou 
wishest  we  will  do."  "It  will  be  best  for  us,"  he  answered, 
"to  rest  and  wait  for  the  day  in  order  to  pursue  our  journey." 
"That  will  we,  gladly,"  said  she.  And  they  did  so.  Having 
dismounted  himself,  he  took  her  down  from  her  horse.  "  I 


GERAINT,  THE    SON    OF   ERBIN.  245 

cannot  by  any  means  refrain  from  sleep  through  weariness," 
said  he ;  "  do  thou  therefore  watch  the  horses  and  sleep  not." 
"I  will,  lord,"  said  she.  Then  he  went  to  sleep  in  his  armor, 
and  thus  passed*  the  nigh  t,T  which  was  not  long  at  that  season. 
And  when  she  saw  the  dawn  of  day  appear  she  looked  around 
her  to  see  if  he  were  waking,  and  thereupon  he  awoke.  Then 
he  arose,  and  said  unto  her,  "Take  the  horses  and  ride  on,  and 
keep  straight  on  as  thou  didst  yesterday."  And  they  left  the 
wood,  and  they  came  to  an  open  country,  with  meadows  on 
one  hand,  and  mowers  mowing  the  meadows.  And  there  was 
a  river  before  them,  and  the  horses  bent  down  and  drank  of 
the  water.  And  they  went  up  out  of  the  river  by  a  lofty 
steep ;  and  there  they  met  a  slender  stripling  with  a  satchel 
about  his  neck,  and  they  saw  there  was  something  in  the 
satchel,  but  they  knew  not  what  it  was.  And  he  had  a  small 
blue  pitcher  in  his  hand,  and  a  bowl  on  the  mouth  of  the 
pitcher.  And  the  youth  saluted  Geraint.  "  Heaven  prosper 
thee!"  said  Geraint;  "and  whence  dost  thou  come?"  "I 
come,"  said  he,  "  from  the  city  that  lies  before  thee.  My 
lord,"  he  added,  "  will  it  be  displeasing  to  thee  if  I  ask  whence 
thou  comest  also?"  "By  no  means;  through  yonder  wood 
did  I  come."  "  Thou  earnest  not  through  the  wood  to-day." 
"No,"  he  replied;  "we  were  in  the  wood  last  night."  "I 
warrant,"  said  the  youth,  "that  thy  condition  there  last  night 
was  not  the  most  pleasant,  and  that  thou  Imdst  neither  meat 
nor  drink."  "No,  by  my  faith,"  said  he.  "Wilt  thou  follow 
my  counsel,"  said  the  youth,  "and  take  thy  meal  from  me?" 
"  What  sort  of  meal?"  he  inquired.  "The  breakfast  which  is 
sent  for  yonder  mowers,  nothing  less  than  bread  and  meat  and 
wine ;  and  if  thou  wilt,  sir,  they  shall  have  none  of  it."  "  I 
will,"  said  he,  "  and  Heaven  reward  thee  for  it." 

So  Geraint  alighted,  and  the  youth  took  the  maiden  from  off 
her  horse.  Then  they  washed,  and  took  their  repast.  And 
the  youth  cut  the  bread  in  slices,  and  gave  them  drink,  and 
served  them  withal.  And  when  they  had  finished  the  youth 
arose  and  said  to  Geraint,  "My  lord,  with  thy  permission,  I 
will  now  go  and  fetch  some  food  for  the  mowers."  "Go  first 
to  the  town,"  said  Geraint,  "and  take  a  lodging  for  me  in  the 


246  THE   MABINOGEON. 

best  place  thou  knowest,  and  the  most  commodious  one  for  the 
horses  ;  and  take  thou  whichever  horse  and  arms  thou  choos- 
est  in  payment  for  thy  service  and  thy  gift."  "  Heaven  reward 
thee,  lord  !  "  said  the  youth ;  "  and  this  would  be  ample  to  re 
pay  services  much  greater  than  those  I  have  rendered  unto 
thee."  And  to  the  town  went  the  youth,  and  he  took  the  best 
and  most  pleasant  lodgings  that  he  knew ;  and  after  that  he 
went  to  the  palace,  having  the  horse  and  armor  with  him,  and 
proceeded  to  the  place  where  the  earl  was,  and  told  him  all  his 
adventure.  "  I  go  now,  lord,"  said  he,  "  to  meet  the  knight,  and 
to  conduct  him  to  his  lodging."  "Go,  gladly,"  said  the  earl, 
uand  right  joyfully  shall  he  be  received  here,  if  he  so  come." 
And  the  youth  went  to  meet  Geraint,  and  told  him  that  he 
would  be  received  gladly  by  the  earl  in  his  own  palace ;  but  he 
would  go  only  to  his  lodgings.  And  he  had  a  goodly  chamber, 
in  which  was  plenty  of  straw  and  drapery,  and  a  spacious  and 
commodious  place  he  had  for  the  horses ;  and  the  youth  pre 
pared  for  them  plenty  of  provender.  After  they  had  dis 
arrayed  themselves,  Geraint  spoke  thus  to  Enid:  "Go,"  said 
he,  "  to  the  other  side  of  the  chamber,  and  come  not  to  this 
side  of  the  house;  and  thou  mayst  call  to  thee  the  woman  of 
the  house  if  thou  wilt."  "I  will  do,  lord,"  said  she,  "as  thou 
sayest."  Thereupon  the  man  of  the  house  came  to  Geraint, 
and  welcomed  him.  And  after  they  had  eaten  and  drank  Ger 
aint  went  to  sleep,  and  so  did  Enid  also. 

In  the  evening,  behold,  the  earl  came  to  visit  Geraint,  and 
his  twelve  honorable  knights  with  him.  And  Geraint  rose  up 
and  welcomed  him.  Then  they  all  sat  down  according  to  their 
precedence  in  honor.  And  the  earl  conversed  with  Geraint, 
and  inquired  of  him  the  object  of  his  journey.  "  I  have  none," 
he  replied,  "but  to  seek  adventures  and  to  follow  my  own  in 
clination."  Then  the  earl  cast  his  eye  upon  Enid,  and  he  looked 
at  her  steadfastly.  And  he  thought  he  had  never  seen  a  maiden 
fairer  or  more  comely  than  she.  And  he  set  all  his  thoughts 
and  his  affections  upon  her.  Then  he  asked  of  Geraint,  "  Have 
I  thy  permission  to  go  and  converse  with  yonder  maiden,  for  I 
see  that  she  is  apart  from  thee?"  "  Thou  hast  it  gladly,"  said 
he.  So  the  earl  went  to  the  place  where  the  maiden  was,  and 


GERAINT,  THE    SON    OF    ERBIN.  247 

spake  with  her.  "Ah  !  maiden,"  said  he,  "it  cnnnot  be  pleas 
ant  to  thee  to  journey  with  yonder  man."  "  It  is  not  unpleas 
ant  to  me,"  said  she.  "Thou  hast  neither  youths  nor  maidens 
to  serve  thee,"%  said  he.  "Truly,"  she  replied,  "it  is  more 
pleasant  for  rne  to  follow'»yonder  man  than  to  be  served  by 
youths  and  maidens."  "  I  will  give  thee  good  counsel,"  said 
he;  "all  my  earldom  will  I  place  in  thy  possession  if  thou  wilt 
dwell  with  me."  "  That  will  I  not,  by  Heaven,"  she  said; 
"  yonder  man  was  the  first  to  whom  my  faith  was  pledged,  and 
shall  I  prove  inconstant  to  him?"  "Thou  art  in  the  wrong," 
said  the  earl;  "if  I  slay  the  man  yonder  I  can  keep  thee  with 
me  as  long  as  I  choose ;  and  when  thou  no  longer  pleasest  me 
I  can  turn  thee  away.  But  if  thou  goest  with  me  by  thy  own 
good-will,  I  protest  that  our  union  shall  continue  as  long  as  I 
shall  remain  alive."  Then  she  pondered  those  words  of  his, 
and  she  considered  that  it  was  advisable  to  encourage  him  in 
his  request.  "Behold  then,  chieftain,  this  is  most  expedient 
for  thee  to  do  to  save  rne  from  all  reproach  ;  come  here  to 
morrow  and  take  me  away  as  though  I  knew  nothing  thereof." 
"  I  will  do  so,"  said  he.  So  he  arose  and  took  his  leave,  and 
went  forth  with  his  attendants.  And  she  told  not  then  to  Ger- 
aint  any  of  the  conversation  which  she  had  had  with  the  earl 
lest  it  should  rouse  his  anger,  and  cause  him  uneasiness  and 
care. 

And  at  the  usual  hour  they  went  to  sleep.  And  at  the  be 
ginning  of  the  night  Enid  slept  a  little;  and  at  midnight  she 
arose,  and  placed  all  Geraint's  armor  together,  so  that  it  might 
be  ready  to  put  on.  And  though  fearful  of  her  errand,  she 
came  to  the  side  of  Geraint's  bed  ;  and  she  spoke  to  him 
softly  and  gently,  saying,  "  My  lord,  arise,  and  clothe  thyself, 
for  these  were  the  words  of  the  earl  to  me,  and  his  intention 
concerning  me."  So  she  told  Geraint  all  that  had  passed. 
And  although  he  was  wroth  with  her,  he  took  warning,  and 
clothed  himself.  And  she  lighted  a  candle  that  he  might  have 
light  to  do  so.  "  Leave  there  the  candle,"  said  he,  "  and 
desire  the  man  of  the  house  to  come  here."  Then  she  went, 
and  the  man  of  the  house  came  to  him.  "Dost  thou  know 
how  much  I  owe  thee  ?"  asked  Geraint.  "I  think  thou  owest 


248  THE    MABINOGEON. 

but  little."  "Take  the  three  horses,  and  the  three  suits  of 
armor."  "Heaven  reward  thee,  Lord,"  said  he,  "but  I  spent 
not  the  value  of  one  suit  of  armor  upon  thee."  "  For  that 
reason,"  said  he,  "  thou  wilt  be  the  richer.  And  now,  wilt 
thou  come  to  guide  me  out  of  the  town ?  "  "I  will,  gladly," 
said  he;  "and  in  which  direction  dost  thou  intend  to  go?"  "I 
wish  to  leave  the  town  by  a  different  way  from  that  by  which 
I  entered  it."  So  the  man  of  the  lodgings  accompanied  him 
as  far  as  he  desired.  Then  he  bade  the  maiden  to  G-O  on  be- 

O 

fore  him,  and  she  did  so,  and  went  straight  forward,  and  his 
host  returned  home. 

And  Geraint  and  the  maiden  went  forward  along  the  high 
road.  And  as  they  journeyed  thus,  they  heard  an  exceeding 
loud  wailing  near  to  them.  "  Stay  thou  here,"  said  he,  "  and 
I  will  go  and  see  what  is  the  cause  of  this  wailing."  "  I  will," 
said  she.  Then  he  went  forward  into  an  open  glade  that  was 
near  the  road.  And  in  the  glade  he  saw  two  horses,  one  hav 
ing  a  man's  saddle,  and  the  other  a  woman's  saddle  upon  it. 
And  behold  there  was  a  knight  lying  dead  in  his  armor,  and  a 
young  damsel  in  a  riding-dress  standing  over  him  lamenting. 
"  Ah,  lady,"  said  Geraint,  "  what  hath  befallen  thee  ?"  "  Be 
hold,"  she  answered,  "  I  journeyed  here  with  my  beloved  hus 
band,  when  lo  !  three  giants  came  upon  us,  and  without  any 
cause  in  the  world,  they  slew  him."  "  Which  way  M*ent  they 
hence?"  said  Geraint.  "Yonder  by  the  high-road,"  she  re 
plied.  So  he  returned  to  Enid.  "Go,"  said  he,  "to  the  lady 
that  is  below  yonder,  and  await  me  there  till  I  come."  She 
was  sad  when  he  ordered  her  to  do  thus,  but  nevertheless  she 
went  to  the  damsel,  whom  it  was  ruth  to  hear,  and  she  felt 
certain  that  Geraint  would  never  return. 

Meanwhile  Geraint  followed  the  giants,  and  overtook  them. 
And  each  of  them  was  greater  in  stature  than  three  other 
men,  and  a  huge  club  was  on  the  shoulder  of  each.  Then  he 
rushed  upon  one  of  them,  and  thrust  his  lance  through  his 
body.  And  having  drawn  it  forth  again,  he  pierced  another 
of  them  through  likewise.  But  the  third  timed  upon  him, 
and  struck  him  with  his  club  so  that  he  split  his  shield  and 
crushed  his  snoulder.  But  Geraint  drew  his  sword,  and  gave 


GERAINT,  THE    SON    OF   ERBEST.  249 

the  giant  a  blow  on  the  crown  of  his  head,  so  severe,  and 
fierce,  and  violent,  that  his  head  and  his  neck  were  split  down 
to  his  shoulders,  and  he  fell  dead.  So  Geraint  left  him  thus, 
and  returned  tQ  Enid.  And  when  he  reached  the  place  where 
she  was,  he  fell  down  lifeless  from  his  horse.  Piercing  and 
loud  and  thrilling  was  the  cry  that  Enid  uttered.  And  she 
came  and  stood  over  him  where  he  had  fallen.  And  at  the 
sound  of  her  cries  came  the  Earl  of  Limours,  and  they  who 
journeyed  with  him,  whom  her  lamentations  brought  out  of 
their  road.  And  the  earl  said  to  Enid,  "Alas,  lady,  what 
hath  befallen  thee?"  "Ah,  good  sir,"  said  she,  "the  only 
man  I  have  loved,  or  ever  shall  love,  is  slain."  Then  he  said 
to  the  other,  "And  what  is  the  cause  of  thy  grief?"  "They 
have  slain  my  beloved  husband  also,"  said  she.  "And  who 
was  it  that  slew  them?"  "Some  giants,"  she  answered, 
"slew  my  best-beloved,  and  the  other  knight  went  in  pursuit 
of  them,  and  came  back  in  the  state  thou  seest."  The  earl 
caused  the  knight  that  was  dead  to  be  buried,  but  he  thought 
that  there  still  remained  some  life  in  Geraint;  and  to  see  if  he 
yet  would  live,  he  had  him  carried  with  him  in  the  hollow  of 
his  shield,  and  upon  a  bier.  And  the  two  damsels  went  to  the 
court;  and  when  they  arrived  there,  Geraint  was  placed  upon 
a  little  couch  in  front  of  the  table  that  was  in  the  hall.  Then 
they  all  took  off  their  travelling-gear,  and  the  earl  besought 
Enid  to  do  the  same,  and  to  clothe  herself  in  other  garments. 
"I  will  not,  by  Heaven,"  said  she.  "Ah,  lady,"  said  he,  "be 
not  so  sorrowful  for  this  matter."  "  It  were  hard  to  persuade 
me  to  be  otherwise,"  said  she.  "  I  will  act  towards  thee  in 
such  wise  that  thou  needest  not  be  sorrowful,  whether  yonder 
knight  live  or  die.  Behold,  a  good  earldom,  together  with 
myself,  will  I  bestow  upon  thee ;  be  therefore  happy  and  joy 
ful."  "  I  declare  to  Heaven,"  said  she.  "  that  henceforth  I 
shall  never  be  joyful  while  I  live."  "  Come,"  said  he,  "  and 
eat."  "No,  by  Heaven,  I  will  not."  "But  by  Heaven,  thou 
shall,"  said  he.  So  he  took  her  with  him  to  the  table  against 
her  will,  and  many  times  desired  her  to  eat.  "I  call  Heaven 
to  witness,"  said  she,  "that  I  will  not  eat  until  the  man  that  is 
upon  yonder  bier  shall  eat  likewise."  "  Thou  canst  not  fulfil 


250  THE    MABINOGEOX. 

that,"  said  the  earl ;  "  yonder  man  is  dead  already."  "  I  will 
prove  that  I  can,"  said  she.  Then  lie  offered  her  a  goblet  of 
liquor.  "Drink  this  goblet,"  he  said,  "and  it  will  cause  thee 
to  change  thy  mind."  "Evil  betide  me,"  she  answered,  "if  I 
drink  aught  until  he  drink  also."  "Truly,"  said  the  earl,  "it 
is  of  no  more  avail  for  me  to  be  gentle  with  thee  than  un 
gentle."  And  he  gave  her  a  box  in  the  ear.  Thereupon  she 
raised  a  loud  and  piercing  shriek,  and  her  lamentations  were 
much  greater  than  they  had  been  before ;  for  she  considered 
in  her  mind  that,  had  Geraint  been  alive,  he  durst  not  have 
struck  her  thus.  But  behold,  at  the  sound  of  her  cry,  Geraint 
revived  from  his  swoon,  and  he  sat  up  on  the  bier;  and  find 
ing  his  sword  in  the  hollow  of  his  shield,  he  rushed  to  the 
place  where  the  earl  was,  and  struck  him  a  fiercely-wounding, 
severely-venomous,  and  sternly-smiting  blow  upon  the  crown 
of  his  head,  so  that  he  clove  him  in  twain,  until  his  sword  was 
staid  by  the  table.  Then  all  left  the  board  and  fled  away. 
And  this  was  not  so  much  through  fear  of  the  living,  as 
through  the  dread  they  felt  at  seeing  .the  dead  man  rise  up  to 
slay  them.  And  Geraint  looked  upon  Enid,  and  he  was 
grieved  for  two  causes;  one  was  to  see  that  Enid  had  lost  her 
color  and  her  wonted  aspect ;  and  the  other,  to  know  that  she 
was  in  the  right.  "Lady,"  said  he,  "knowest  thou  where  our 
horses  are  ?  "  "I  know,  lord,  where  thy  horse  is,"  she  replied, 
"  but  I  know  not  where  is  the  other.  Thy  horse  is  in  the 
house  yonder."  So  he  went  to  the  house,  and  brought  forth 
his  horse,  and  mounted  him,  and  took  up  Enid,  and  placed  her 
upon  the  horse  with  him.  And  he  rode  forward.  And  their 
road  lay  between  two  hedges ;  and  the  night  was  gaining  on 
the  day.  And  lo  !  they  saw  behind  them  the  shafts  of  spears 
betwixt  them  and  the  sky,  and  they  heard  the  tramping  of 
horses,  and  the  noise  of  a  host  approaching.  "  I  hear  some 
thing  following  us,"  said  he,  "  and  I  will  put  thee  on  the  other 
side  of  the  hedge."  And  thus  he  did.  And  thereupon,  be 
hold,  a  knight  pricked  towards  him,  and  couched  his  lance. 
When  Enid  saw  this,  she  cried  out,  saying,  "  O  chieftain,  who 
ever  thou  art,  what  renown  wilt  thou  gain  by  slaying  a  dead 
man?"  "O  Heaven!"  said  he,  "is  it  Geraint?"  "Yes,  in 


GERAINT,  THE  SON  OF  ERBIN.  251 

truth,"  said  she;  "and  who  art  thou?"  "I  am  Gwifi'ert 
Petit,"  said  he,  "  thy  husband's  ally,  coming  to  thy  assistance, 
for  I  heard  that  thou  wast  in  trouble.  Come  with  me  to  the 
court  of  a  son-ia;law  of  my  sister,  which  is  near  here,  and  thou 
shalt  have  the  best  medica'i  assistance  in  the  kino-dom."  "I 

O 

will  do  so  gladly,"  said  Geraint.  And  Enid  was  placed  upon 
the  horse  of  one  of  Gvviffert's  squires,  and  they  went  forward 
to  the  baron's  palace.  And  they  were  received  there  with 
gladness,  and  they  met  with  hospitality  and  attention.  The 
next  morning  they  went  to  seek  physicians;  and  it  was  not 
long  before  they  came,  and  they  attended  Geraint  until  he  was 
perfectly  well.  And  while  Geraint  was  under  medical  care, 
Gwiffert  caused  his  armor  to  be  repaired,  until  it  wras  as  good 
as  it  had  ever  been.  And  they  remained  there  a  month  and  a 
fortnight.  Then  they  separated,  and  Geraint  went  towards 
his  own  dominions,  and  thenceforth  he  reigned  prosperously, 
and  his  warlike  fame  and  splendor  lasted  with  renown  and 
honor  both  to  him  and  to  Enid,*  from  that  time  forward. 

*  Throughout  the  broad  and  varied  regions  of  romance,  it  would  be  difficult  to 
find  a  character  of  greater  simplicity  and  truth  than  that  of  Enid,  the  danghter 
of  Earl  Ynywl.  Conspicuous  for  her  beauty  and  noble  bearing,  we  are  at  a  loss 
whether  more  to  admire  the  patience  with  which  she  bore  all  the  hardships  she 
was  destined  to  undergo,  or  the  constancy  and  affection  which  finally  achieved 
the  triumph  she  so  richly  deserved. 

The  character  of  Enid  is  admirably  sustained  through  the  whole  tale ;  and  as 
it  is  more  natural,  because  less  overstrained,  so  perhaps  it  is  even  more  touching, 
than  that  of  Griselda,  over  which,  however,  Chaucer  has  thrown  a  charm  that 
leads  ua  to  forget  the  improbability  of  her  story. 


CHAPTER  XXYI. 

PWYLL,  PRINCE   OF  DYVED. 

ONCE  upon  a  time  Pwyll  was  at  Narberth,  his  chief  palace, 
where  a  feast  had  been  prepared  for  him,  and  with  him 
was  a  great  host  of  men.  And  after  the  first  meal  Pwyll  arose 
to  walk  ;  and  he  went  to  the  top  of  a  mound  that  was  above 
the  palace,  and  was  called  Gorsedd  Arberth.  "  Lord,"  said  one 
of  the  court,  "  it  is  peculiar  to  the  mound  that  whosoever  sits 
upon  it  cannot  go  thence  without  either  receiving  wounds  or 
blows,  or  else  seeing  a  wonder."  "  I  fear  not  to  receive 
wounds  or  blows,"  said  Pwyll;  "but  as  to  the  wonder,  gladly 
would  I  see  it.  I  will  therefore  go  and  sit  upon  the  mound." 

And  upon  the  mound  he  sat.  And  while  he  sat  there,  they 
saw  a  lady,  on  a  pure  white  horse  of  large  size,  with  a  garment 
of  shining  gold  around  her,  coming  along  the  highway  that  led 
from  the  mound.  "  My  men,"  said  Pwyll,  "  is  there  any  among 
you  who  knows  yonder  lady?"  "There  is  not,  lord,"  said 
they.  "  Go  one  of  you  and  meet  her,  that  we  may  know  who 
she  is."  And  one  of  them  arose,  and  as  he  came  upon  the  road 
252 


PWYLL,    PRINCE    OF    DYVED.  253 

to  meet  her,  she  passed  by  ;  and  he  followed  as  fast  as  he  could, 
being  on  foot,  and  the  greater  was  his  speed,  the  further  was 
she  from  him.  And  when  he  saw  that  it  profited  him  nothing 
to  follow  her,  he  returned  to  Pwyll,  and  said  unto  him,  "  Lord, 
it  is  idle  for  any  one  in  the  world  to  follow  her  on  foot." 
"  Verily,"  said  Pwyll,  "go  unto  the  palace,  and  take  the  fleet 
est  horse  that  thou  seest,  and  go  after  her." 

And  he  took  a  horse  and  went  forward.  And  he  came  to  an 
open,  level  plain,  and  put  spurs  to  his  horse ;  and  the  more  he 
urged  his  horse,  the  further  was  she  from  him.  And  he  re 
turned  to  the  palace  where  Pwyll  was,  and  said,  "  Lord,  it  will 
avail  nothing  for  any  one  to  follow  yonder  lady.  I  know  of  no 
horse  in  these  realms  swifter  than  this,  and  it  availed  me  not 
to  pursue  her."  "Of  a  truth,"  said  Pwyll,  "there  must  be 
some  illusion  here  ;  let  us  go  towards  the  palace."  So  to  the 
palace  they  went,  and  spent  the  day. 

And  the  next  day  they  amused  themselves  until  it  was  time 
to  go  to  meat.  And  when  meat  was  ended,  Pwyll  said, 
"Where  are  the  hosts  that  went  yesterday  to  the  top  of  the 
mound?"  "  Behold,  lord,  we  are  here,"  said  they.  "Let  us 
go,"  said  he,  "  to  the  mound,  and  sit  there.  And  do  thou," 
said  he  to  the  page  who  tended  his  horse,  "saddle  my  horse 
well,  and  hasten  with  him  to  the  road,  and  bring  also  my  spurs 
with  thee."  And  the  youth  did  thus.  And  they  went  and  sat 
upon  the  mound ;  and  ere  they  had  been  there  but  a  short 
time,  they  beheld  the  lady  corning  by  the  same  road,  and  in 
the  same  manner,  and  at  the  same  pace.  "  Young  man,"  said 
Pwyll,  "  I  see  the  lady  coming ;  give  me  my  horse."  And  before 
he  had  mounted  his  horse  she  passed  him.  And  he  turned  after 
her  and  followed  her.  And  he  let  his  horse  go  bounding  play 
fully,  and  thought  that  he  should  soon  come  up  with  her.  But  he 
came  no  nearer  to  her  than  at  first.  Then  he  urged  his  horse 
to  his  utmost  speed,  yet  he  found  that  it  availed  not.  Then 
said  Pwyll,  "  O  maiden,  for  the  sake  of  him  whom  thou  best 
lovest,  stay  for  me."  "I  will  stay  gladly,"  said  she;  "and  it 
were  better  for  thy  horse  hadst  thou  asked  it  long  since."  So 
the  maiden  stopped  ;  and  she  threw  back  that  part  of  her  head 
dress  which  covered  her  face.  Then  he  thought  that  the  beauty 


254  THE    MABIXOGEON. 

of  all  the  maidens  and  all  the  ladies  that  he  had  ever  seen  was 
as  nothing  compared  to  her  beauty.  "Lady,"  he  said,  "wilt 
thou  tell  me  aught  concerning  thy  purpose?"  "I  will  tell 
thee,"  said  she  ;  "  my  chief  quest  was  to  see  thee."  "  Truly," 
said  Pwyll,  "this  is  to  me  the  most  pleasing  quest  on  which 
thou  couldst  have  come;  and  wilt  thou  tell  me  who  thou  art?" 
"  I  will  tell  thee,  lord,"  said  she.  "  I  am  Rhiannon,  the  daugh 
ter  of  Heveydd,  and  they  sought  to  give  me  to  a  husband  against 
my  will.  But  no  husband  would  I  have,  and  that  because  of 
my  love  for  thee  ;  neither  will  I  yet  have  one,  unless  thou  reject 
me  ;  and  hither  have  I  come  to  hear  thy  answer."  "  By  Heav 
en,"  said  Pwyll,  "behold  this  is  my  answer.  If  I  might 
choose  among  all  the  ladies  and  damsels  in  the  world,  thee 
would  I  choose."  "Verily,"  said  she,  "if  thou  art  thus 
minded,  make  a  pledge  to  meet  me  ere  I  am  given  to  another." 
"  The  sooner  I  may  do  so,  the  more  pleasing  will  it  be  to  me," 
said  Pwyll;  "and  wheresoever  thou  wilt,  there  will  I  meet 
with  thee."  "  I  will  that  thou  meet  me  this  day  twelvemonth  at 
the  palace  of  Heveydd."  '•  Gladly,"  said  he,  "  will  I  keep  this 
tryst."  So  they  parted,  and  he  went  back  to  his  hosts,  and  to 
them  of  his  household.  And  whatsoever  questions  they  asked 
him  respecting  the  damsel,  he  always  turned  the  discourse 
upon  other  matters. 

And  when  a  year  from  that  time  was  gone,  he  caused  a  hun 
dred  knights  to  equip  themselves,  and  to  go  with  him  to  the 
palace  of  Heveydd.  And  he  came  to  the  palace,  and  there  was 
great  joy  concerning  him,  with  much  concourse  of  people,  and 
great  rejoicing,  and  vast  preparations  for  his  coming.  And 
the  whole  court  was  placed  under  his  orders. 

And  the  hall  was  garnished,  and  they  went  to  meat,  and  thus 
did  they  sit :  Heveydd  was  on  one  side  of  Pwyll,  and  Rhian 
non  on  the  other;  and  all  the  rest  according  to  their  rank. 
And  they  ate  and  feasted,  and  talked  one  with  another.  And 
at  the  beginning  of  the  carousal  after  the  meat,  there  entered 
a  tall,  auburn-haired  youth,  of  royal  bearing,  clothed  in  a  gar 
ment  of  satin.  And  when  he  came  into  the  hall,  he  saluted 
Pwyll  and  his  companions.  "  The  greeting  of  Heaven  be  unto 
thee,"  said  Pwyll ;  "  come  thou  and  sit  down."  "  Nay,"  said 


PWYLL,    PRIXCE    OF    DYVED.  255 

he,  "a  suitor  am  I,  and  I  will  do  my  errand."  "Do  so,  will 
ingly,"  said  Pwyll.  "Lord,"  said  he,  "  my  errand  is  unto 
thee,  and  it  is  to  crave  a  boon  of  thee  that  I  come."  "  What 
boon  soever  them  mayest  ask  of  me,  so  far  as  I  am  able,  thou 
shalt  have."  "Ah!"  said'^Rhiannon,  "wherefore  didst  thou 
give  that  answer?"  "Has  he  not  given  it  before  the  presence 
of  these  nobles?"  asked  the  youth.  "  My  soul,"  said  Pwyll, 
"what  is  the  boon  thou  askest?"  "The  lady  whom  best  I 
love  is  to  be  thy  bride  this  night ;  I  come  to  ask  her  of  thee, 
with  the  feast  and  the  banquet  that  are  in  this  place."  And 
Pwyll  was  silent,  because  of  the  promise  which  he  had  given. 
"  Be  silent  as  long  as  thou  wilt,"  said  Rhiannon,  "  never  did 
man  make  worse  use  of  his  wits  than  thou  hast  done."  "  Lady," 
said  he,  "  I  knew  not  who  he  Avas."  "  Behold,  this  is  the  man 
to  whom  they  would  have  given  me  against  my  will,"  said  she ; 
"  and  he  is  Gawl,  the  son  of  Clud,  a  man  of  great  power  and 
wealth,  and  because  of  the  word  thou  hast  spoken,  bestow  me 
upon  him,  lest  shame  befall  thee."  "  Lady,"  said  he,  "  I  under 
stand  not  thy  answer;  never  can  I  do  as  thou  sayest."  "  Be 
stow  me  upon  him,"  said  she,  "  and  I  will  cause  that  I  shall 
never  be  his."  "  By  what  means  will  that  be  ?  "  asked  Pwyll. 
Then  she  told  him  the  thought  that  was  in  her  mind.  And 
they  talked  long  together.  Then  Gawl  said,  "  Lord,  it  is  meet 
that  I  have  an  answer  to  my  request."  "As  much  of  that  thou 
hast  asked  as  it  is  in  my  power  to  give,  thou  shalt  have,"  replied 
Pwyll.  "  My  soul,"  said  Rhiannon  unto  Gawl,  "  as  for  the  feast 
and  the  banquet  that  are  here,  I  have  bestowed  them  upon  the 
men  of  Dyved,  and  the  household  and  the  warriors  that  are 
with  us.  These  can  I  not  suffer  to  be  given  to  any.  In  a  year 
from  to-night,  a  banquet  shall  be  prepared  for  thee  in  this 
palace,  that  I  may  become  thy  bride." 

So  Gawl  went  forth  to  his  possessions,  and  Pwyll  went  also 
back  to  Dyved.  And  they  both  spent  that  year  until  it  was 
the  time  for  the  feast  at  the  palace  of  Heveydd.  Then  Gawl, 
the  son  of  Clud,  set  out  to  the  feast  that  was  prepared  for  him; 
and  he  came  to  the  palace,  and  was  received  there  with  rejoic 
ing.  Pwyll,  also,  the  chief  of  Dyved,  came  to  the  orchard  writh 
a  hundred  knights,  as  Rhiannon  had  commanded  him.  And 


256  THE    MABINOGEON. 

Pwyll  was  clad  in  coarse  and  ragged  garments,  and  wore  large, 
clumsy  old  shoes  upon  his  feet.  And  when  he  knew  that  the 
carousal  after  the  meat  had  begun,  he  went  toward  the  hall ; 
and  when  he  came  into  the  hall  he  saluted  Gawl,  the  son  of 
Clud,  and  his  company,  both  men  and  women.  "  Heaven  pros 
per  thee,"  said  Gawl,  "  and  friendly  greeting  be  unto  thee !  " 
"  Lord,"  said  he,  "  may  Heaven  reward  thee  !  I  have  an  errand 
unto  thee."  "  Welcome  be  thine  errand,  and  if  thou  ask  of  me 
that  which  is  right,  thou  shalt  have  it  gladly."  "It  is  fitting," 
answered  he ;  "  I  crave  but  from  want,  and  the  boon  I  ask  is  to 
have  this  small  bag  that  thou  seest  filled  with  meat."  "A  re 
quest  within  reason  is  this,"  said  he,  "  and  gladly  shalt  thou 
have  it.  Bring  him  food."  A  great  number  of  attendants 
arose  and  began  to  fill  the  bag;  but  for  all  they  put  into  it,  it 
was  no  fuller  than  at  first.  "My  soul,"  said  Gawl,  "will  thy 
bag  ever  be  full?"  "It  will  not,  I  declare  to  Heaven,"  said 
he,  "for  all  that  may  be  put  into  it,  unless  one  possessed  of 
lands,  and  domains,  and  treasure,  shall  arise  and  tread  down 
with  both  his  feet  the  food  that  is  within  the  bag,  and  shall 
say,  '  Enough  has  been  put  therein.'  "  Then  said  Khiannon 
unto  Gawl,  the  son  of  Clud,  "Rise  up  quickly."  "  I  will  will 
ingly  arise,"  said  he.  So  he  rose  up,  and  put  his  two  feet  into 
the  bag.  And  Pwyll  turned  up  the  sides  of  the  bag,  so  that 
Gawl  was  over  his  head  in  it.  And  he  shut  it  up  quickly,  and 
slipped  a  knot  upon  the  thongs,  and  blew  his  horn.  And  there 
upon,  behold,  his  knights  came  down  upon  the  palace.  And 
they  seized  all  the  host  that  had  come  with  Gawl,  and  cast 
them  into  his  own  prison.  And  Pwyll  threw  off  his  rags,  and 
his  old  shoes,  and  his  tattered  array.  And  as  they  carne  in 
every  one  of  Pwyll's  knights  struck  a  blow  upon  the  bag,  and 
asked,  "What  is  here?"  "A  badger,"  snid  they.  And  in 
this  manner  they  played,  each  of  them  striking  the  bag,  either 
with  his  foot  or  with  a  staff.  And  thus  played  they  with  the 
bag.  And  then  was  the  game  of  Badger  in  the  Bag  first 
played. 

"  Lord,"  said  the  man  in  the  bag,  "  if  thou  wouldst  but  hear 
me,  I  jnerit  not  to  be  slain  in  a  bag."  Said  Heveydd,  "  Lord, 
he  speaks  truth ;  it  were  fitting  that  thou  listen  to  him,  for  he 


PWYLL,    PRINCE    OF    DYVED.  257 

deserves  not  this."  "  Verily,"  said  Pwyll,  "  I  will  do  thy  coun 
sel  concerning  him."  "Behold,  this  is  my  counsel  then,"  said 
Rhiannon.  "  Thou  art  now  in  a  position  in  which  it  behooves 
thee  to  satisfy  s.uitors  and  minstrels.  Let  him  give  unto  them 
in  thy  stead,  and  take  a  pledge  from  him  that  he  will  never 
seek  to  revenge  that  which  has  been  done  to  him.  And  this 
will  be  punishment  enough."  "  I  will  do  this  gladly,"  said  the 
man  in  the  bag.  "  And  gladly  will  I  accept  it,"  said  Pwyll, 
"  since  it  is  the  counsel  of  Heveydd  and  Rhiannon.  Seek  thy 
self  sureties."  "  We  will  be  for  him,"  said  Heveydd,  "  until 
his  men  be  free  to  answer  for  him."  And  upon  this  he  was  let 
out  of  the  bag,  and  his  liegemen  were  liberated.  "  Verily, 
lord,"  said  Gawl,  "  I  am  greatly  hurt,  and  I  have  many  bruises. 
With  thy  leave  I  will  go  forth.  I  will  leave  nobles  in  my  stead 
to  answer  for  me  in  all  that  thou  shalt  require."  "  Wi-llingly," 
said  Pwyll,  "  mayest  thou  do  thus."  So  Gawl  went  to  his  own 
possessions. 

And  the  hall  was  set  in  order  for  Pwyll  and  the  men  of  his 
host,  and  for  them  also  of  the  palace,  and  they  went  to  the 
tables  and  sat  down.  And  as  they  had  sat  at  that  time  twelve 
month,  so  sat  they  that  night.  And  they  ate  and  feasted,  and 
spent  the  night  in  mirth  and  tranquillity.  And  the  time  came 
that  they  should  sleep,  and  Pwyll  and  Rhiannon  went  to  their 
chamber. 

And  next  morning  at  break  of  day,  "  My  lord,"  said  Rhian 
non,  "  arise  and  begin  to  give  thy  gifts  unto  the  minstrels. 
Refuse  no  one  to-day  that  may  claim  thy  bounty."  "  Thus 
shall  it  be  gladly,"  said  Pwyll,  "  both  to-day  and  everyday 
while  the  feast  shall  last."  So  Pwyll  arose,  and  he  caused  si 
lence  to  be  proclaimed,  and  desired  all  the  suitors  and  minstrels 
to  show  and  to  point  out  what  gifts  they  desired.  And  this  be 
ing  done,  the  feast  went  on,  and  he  denied  no  one  while  it  lasted. 
And  when  the  feast  was  ended,  Pwyll  said  unto  Heveydd,  "  My 
lord,  with  thy  permission,  I  will  set  out  for  Dyved  to-morrow." 
"  Certainly,"  said  Heveydd  ;  "  may  Heaven  prosper  thee !  Fix 
also  a  time  when  Rhiannon  shall  follow  thee."  "  By  Heaven," 
said  Pwyll,  "  we  will  go  hence  together."  "  Wiliest  thou  this, 
lord?"  said  Heveydd.  "  Yes,  lord,"  answered  Pwyll. 


258  THE    MABINOGEON. 

And  the  next  day  they  set  forward  towards  Dyved,  and 
journeyed  to  the  palace  of  Narberth,  where  a  feast  was  made 
ready  for  them.  And  there  came  to  them  great  numbers  of 
the  chief  men  and  the  most  noble  ladies  of  the  land,  and  of 
these  there  were  none  to  whom  Rhiannon  did  not  give  some 
rich  gift,  either  a  bracelet,  or  a  ring,  or  a  precious  stone.  And 
they  ruled  the  land  prosperously  that  year  and  the  next. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 


BfiANWEN,  THE  DAUGHTER  OF  LLYR. 

BENDIGEID  VRAN,  the  son  of  Llyr,  was  the  crowned 
king  of  this  island,  and  he  was  exalted  from  the  crown  of 
London.  And  one  afternoon  he  was  at  Harlech,  in  Ardudwy, 
at  his  court ;  and  he  sat  upon  the  rock  of  Harlech,  looking  over 
the  sea.  And  with  him  were  his  brother,  Manawyddan,  the 
son  of  Llyr,  and  his  brothers  by  the  mother's  side,  Nissyen 
and  Evnissyen,  and  many  nobles  likewise,  as  was  fitting  to  see 
around  a  king.  His  two  brothers  by  the  mother's  side  were 
sons  of  Euroswydd,  and  one  of  these  youths  was  a  good  youth, 
and  of  gentle  nature,  and  would  make  peace  between  his  kin 
dred,  and  cause  his  family  to  be  friends  when  their  wrath  was 
at  the  highest,  and  this  one  was  Nissyen  ;  but  the  other  would 
cause  strife  between  his  two  brothers  when  they  were  most  at 
peace.  And  as  they  sat  thus  they  beheld  thirteen  ships  coming 
from  the  south  of  Ireland,  and  making  towards  them  ;  and  they 
came  with  a  swift  motion,  the  wind  being  behind  them ;  and 
they  neared  them  rapidly.  "  I  see  ships  afar,"  said  the  king, 

259 


260  THE   MABINOGEON. 

"coming  swiftly  towards  the  land.  Command  the  men  of  the 
court  that  they  equip  themselves,  and  go  and  learn  their  in 
tent."  So  the  men  equipped  themselves,  and  went  down 
towards  them.  And  when  they  saw  the  ships  near,  certain 
were  they  that  they  had  never  seen  ships  better  furnished. 
Beautiful  flags  of  satin  were  upon  them.  And,  behold,  one  of 
the  ships  outstripped  the  others,  and  they  saw  a  shield  lifted 
up  above  the  side  of  the  ship,  and  the  point  of  the  shield  was 
upwards,  in  token  of  peace.  And  the  men  drew  near,  that 
they  might  hold  converse.  Then  they  put  out  boats,  and  came 
toward  the  land.  And  they  saluted  the  king.  Now  the  king 
could  hear  them  from  the  place  where  he  was  upon  the  rock 
above  their  heads.  "  Heaven  prosper  you,"  said  he,  "  and  be 
ye  welcome  !  To  whom  do  those  ships  belong,  and  who  is  the 
chief  amongst  you?"  "Lord,"  said  they,  "  Matholch,  king  of 
Ireland,  is  here,  and  these  ships  belong  to  him."  "  Wherefore 
comes  he?"  asked  the  king,  "  and  will  he  come  to  the  land  ?" 
"  He  is  a  suitor  unto  thee,  lord,"  said  they,  "  and  he  will  not 
land  unless  he  have  his  boon."  "And  what  may  that  be?" 
inquired  the  king.  "He  desires  to  ally  himself,  lord,  with 
thee,"  said  they,  "and  he  comes  to  ask  Brariwen,  the  daughter 
of  Llyr,  that,  if  it  seem  well  to  thee,  the  Island  of  the  Mighty* 
may  be  leagued  with  Ireland,  and  both  become  more  power 
ful."  "Verily,"  said  he,  "let  him  come  to  land,  and  we  will 
take  counsel  thereupon."  And  this  answer  was  brought  to 
Matholch.  "I  will  go  willingly,"  said  he.  So  he  landed,  and 
they  received  him  joyfully;  and  great  was  the  throng  in  the 
palace  that  night  between  his  hosts  and  those  of  the  court; 
and  next  day  they  took  counsel,  and  they  resolved  to  bestow 
Branwen  upon  Matholch.  Now  she  was  one  of  the  three 
chief  ladies  of  this  island,  and  she  was  the  fairest  damsel  in 
the  world. 

And  they  fixed  upon  Aberfraw  as  the  place  where  she  should 
become  his  bride.  And  they  went  thence,  and  towards  Aber 
fraw  the  hosts  proceeded,  Matholch  and  his  host  in  their  ships, 
Bendigeid  Yran  and  his  host  by  land,  until  they  came  to  Aber- 

*  The  Island  of  the  Mighty  is  one  of  the  many  names  bestowed  upon  Britain 
by  the  Welsh. 


BRANWEN,  THE    DAUGHTER    OF    LLYR.  261 

fraw.  And  at  Abe rf raw  they  began  the  feast,  and  sat  down. 
And  thus  sat  they  :  the  king  of  the  Island  of  the  Mighty  and 
Manawyddan,  the  son  of  Llyr,  on  one  side,  and  Matholch  on 
the  other  side,  and  Branwen,  the  daughter  of  Llyr,  beside  him. 
And  they  were  not  within  a  house,  but  under  tents.  No  house 
could  ever  contain  Bendigeid  Vran.  And  they  began  the  ban 
quet,  and  caroused  and  discoursed.  And  when  it  was  more 
pleasing  to  them  to  sleep  than  to  carouse,  they  went  to  rest, 
and  Branwen  became  Matholch's  bride. 

And  the  next  day  they  arose,  and  all  they  of  the  court,  and 
the  officers  began  to  equip,  and  to  range  the  horses  and  the 
attendants,  and  they  ranged  them  in  order  as  far  as  the  sea. 

And,  behold,  one  day  Evnissyen,  the  quarrelsome  man,  of 
whom  it  is  spoken  above,  came  by  chance  into  the  place  where 
the  horses  of  Matholch  were,  and  asked  whose  horses  they 
might  be.  "They  are  the  horses  of  Matholch,  king  of  Ireland, 
who  is  married  to  Branwen,  thy  sister;  his  horses  are  they." 
"And  is  it  thus  they  have  done  with  a  maiden  such  as  she,  and 
moreover  my  sister,  bestowing  her,  without  my  consent  ?  They 
could  have  offered  me  no  greater  insult  than  this,"  said  he.  And 
thereupon  he  rushed  under  the  horses,  and  cut  off  their  lips  at 
the  teeth,  and  their  ears  close  to  their  heads,  and  their  tails 
close  to  their  backs;  and  he  disfigured  the  horses,  and  ren 
dered  them  useless. 

And  they  came  with  these  tidings  unto  Matholch,  saying 
that  the  horses  were  disfigured  and  injured,  so  that  not  one  of 
them  could  ever  be  of  any  use  again.  "  Verily,  lord,"  said  one, 
"  it  was  an  insult  unto  thee,  and  as  such  was  it  meant."  "  Of  a 
truth,  it  is  a  marvel  to  me  that,  if  they  desire  to  insult  me, 
they  should  have  given  me  a  maiden  of  such  high  rank,  and  so 
much  beloved  by  their  kindred,  as  they  have  done."  "Lord," 
said  another,  "  thou  seest  that  thus  it  is,  and  there  is  nothing 
for  thee  to  do  but  to  go  to  thy  ships."  And  thereupon  towards 
his  ships  he  set  out.  ' 

And  tidings  came  to  Bendigeid  Vran  that  Matholch  was 
quitting  the  court  without  asking  leave,  and  messengers  were 
sent  to  him  to  inquire  wherefore  he  did  so.  And  the  messen 
gers  that  went  were  Idclic,  the  son  of  Anarawd,  and  Heveyd 


262  THE   MABINOGEON. 

Hir.  And  these  overtook  him,  and  asked  of  him  what  he  de 
signed  to  do,  and  wherefore  he  went  forth.  "  Of  a  truth," 
said  lie,  "  if  I  had  known  I  had  not  come  hither.  I  have  been 
altogether  insulted ;  no  one  had  ever  worse  treatment  than  I 
have  had  here."  "  Truly,  lord,  it  was  not  the  will  of  any  that 
are  of  the  court,"  said  they,  "  nor  of  any  that  are  of  the  coun 
cil,  that  thou  shouldst  have  received  this  insult ;  and  as  thou 
hast  been  insulted  the  dishonor  is  greater  unto  Bendigeid  Vran 
than  unto  thee."  "  Verily,"  said  he,  "  I  think  so.  Neverthe 
less  he  cannot  recall  the  insult."  These  men  returned  wTith 
that  answer  to  the  place  where  Bendigeid  Vran  was,  and  they 
told  him  what  reply  Matholch  had  given  them.  "Truly,"  said 
he,  "  there  are  no  means  by  which  we  may  prevent  his  going 
away  at  enmity  with  us  that  we  will  not  take."  "Well,  lord," 
said  they,  "  send  after  him  another  embassy."  "  I  will  do  so," 
said  he.  "Arise,  Manawyddan,  son  of  Llyr.  and  Heveyd  Hir, 
and  go  after  him,  and  tell  him  that  he  shall  have  a  sound  horse 
tor  every  one  that  has  been  injured.  And  beside  that,  as  an 
atonement  for  the  insult,  he  shall  have  a  staff  of  silver  as  large 
and  as  tall  as  himself,  and  a  plate  of  gold  of  the  breadth  of  his 
face.  And  show  unto  him  who  it  was  that  did  this,  and  that 
it  was  done  against  my  will;  but  that  he  who  did  it  is  my 
brother,  and  therefore  it  would  be  hard  for  me  to  put  him  to 
death.  And  let  him  corne  and  meet  me,"  said  he,  "  and  we  will 
make  peace  in  any  way  he  may  desire." 

The  embassy  went  after  Matholch,  and  told  him  all  these 
sayings  in  a  friendly  manner;  and  he  listened  thereunto. 
"  Men,"  said  he,  "  I  will  take  counsel."  So  to  the  council  he 
went.  And  in  the  council  they  considered  that,  if  they  should 
refuse  this,  they  were  likely  to  have  more  shame  rather  than 
to  obtain  so  great  an  atonement.  They  resolved,  therefore,  to 
accept  it,  and  they  returned  to  the  court  in  peace. 

Then  the  pavilions  and  tents  were  set  in  order  after  the 
fashion  of  a  ball ;  and  they  went  to  meat,' and  as  they  had  sat 
at  the  beginning  of  the  feast  so  sat  they  there.  And  Matholch 
and  Bendigeid  Vran  began  to  discourse;  and,  behold,  it  seemed 
to  Bendigeid  Vran,  while  they  talked,  that  Matholch  was  not 
so  cheerful  as  he  had  been  before.  And  he  thought  that  the 


BRANWEN,   THE    DAUGHTER    OF    LLYK.  2G3 

chieftain  might  be  sad  because  of  the  small  ness  of  the  atone 
ment  which  he  had  for  the  wrong  that  had  been  done  him.  "  O 
man,"  said  Bendigeid  Vran,  "thou  dost  not  discourse  to-night 
so  cheerfully  as  tJiou  wast  wont.  And  if  it  be  because  of  the 
smallness  of  the  atonement '<thou  shalt  add  thereunto  whatso 
ever  thou  mayest  choose,  and  to-morrow  I  will  pay  thee  for  the 
horses."  "  Lord,"  said  he,  "  Heaven  reward  thee  !  "  "And  I 
will  enhance  the  atonement,"  said  Bendigeid  Vran,  "for  I  will 
give  thee  a  caldron,  the  property  of  which  is  that  if  one  of  thy 
men  be  slain  to-day,  and  be  cast  therein,  to-morrow  he  will  be 
as  wrell  as  ever  he  was  at  the  best,  except  that  he  will  not  regain 
his  speech."  And  thereupon  he  gave  him  great  thanks,  and 
very  joyful  wras  he  for  that  cause. 

That  night  they  continued  to  discourse  as  much  as  they 
would,  and  had  minstrelsy  and  carousing ;  and  when  it  was 
more  pleasant  to  them  to  sleep  than  to  sit  longer,  they  went  to 
rest.  And  thus  was  the  banquet  carried  on  with  joyousness  ; 
and  when  it  was  finished,  Matholch  journeyed  towards  Ireland, 
and  Bran  wen  with  him;  and  they  went  from  Aber  Menei  with 
thirteen  ships,  and  came  to  Ireland.  And  in  Ireland  was  there 
great  joy  because  of  their  coming.  And  not  one  great  man 
nor  noble  lady  visited  Branwen  unto  whom  she  gave  not  either 
a  clasp  or  a  ring,  or  a  royal  jewel  to  keep,  such  as  it  was  hon 
orable  to  be  seen  departing  with.  And  in  these  things  she 
spent  that  year  in  much  renown,  and  she  passed  her  time  pleas 
antly,  enjoying  honor  and  friendship.  And  in  due  time  a  son 
was  born  unto  her,  and  the  name  that  they  gave  him  was  Gwern, 
the  son  of  Matholch,  and  they  put  the  boy  out  to  be  nursed  in 
a  place  where  were  the  best  men  of  Ireland. 

And.  behold,  in  the  second  year  a  great  tumult  arose  in  Ire 
land,  on  account  of  the  insult  which  Matholch  had  received  in 
Wales,  and  the  payment  made  him  for  his  horses.  And  his  fos 
ter-brothers,  and  such  as  were  nearest  to  him,  blamed  him  openly 
for  that  matter.  And  he  might  have  no  peace  by  reason  of  the 
tumult,  until  they  should  revenge  upon  him  this  disgrace.  And 
the  vengeance  which  they  took  was  to  drive  away  Branwen 
from  the  same  chamber  with  him,  and  to  make  her  cook  for 
the  court ;  and  they  caused  the  butcher,  after  he  had  cut  up 


264  THE    MABINOGEON. 

the  meat,  to  come  to  her  and  give  her  every  day  a  blow  on  the 
ear  ;  and  such  they  made  her  punishment. 

"Verily,  lord,"  said  his  men  to  Matholch,  "forbid  now  the 
ships  and  the  ferry-boats,  and  the  coracles,  that  they  go  not 
into  Wales,  and  such  as  come  over  from  Wales  hither,  imprison 
them,  that  they  go  not  back  for  this  thing  to  be  known  there." 
And  he  did  so ;  and  it  was  thus  for  no  less  than  three  years. 

And  Branwen  reared  a  starling  in  the  cover  of  the  kneading- 
trough,  and  she  taught  it  to  speak,  and  she  taught  the  bird 
what  manner  of  man  her  brother  was.  And  she  wrote  a  letter 
of  her  woes,  and  the  despite  with  which  she  was  treated,  and 
she  bound  the  letter  to  the  root  of  the  bird's  wing,  and  sent  it 
toward  Wales.  And  the  bird  came  to  that  island ;  and  one 
day  it  found  Bendigeid  Vran  at  Caer  Seiont  in  Arvon,  confer 
ring  there,  and  it  alighted  upon  his  shoulder,  and  ruffled  its 
feathers,  so  that  the  letter  was  seen,  and  they  knew  that  the 
bird  had  been  reared  in  a  domestic  manner. 

Then  Bendigeid  Vran  took  the  letter  and  looked  upon  it. 
And  when  he  had  read  the  letter,  he  grieved  exceedingly  at  the 
tidings  of  Branwen's  woes.  And  immediately  he  began  send 
ing  messengers  to  summon  the  island  together.  And  he  caused 
sevenscore  and  four  of  his  chief  men  to  come  unto  him,  and  he 
complained  to  them  of  the  grief  that  his  sister  endured.  So 
they  took  counsel.  And  in  the  council  they  resolved  to  go  to 
Ireland,  and  to  leave  seven  men  as  princes  at  home,  and  Cara- 
doc,*  the  son  of  Bran,  as  the  chief  of  them. 

Bendigeid  Vran,  with  the  host  of  which  we  spoke,  sailed  to 
wards  Ireland  ;  and  it  was  not  far  across  the  sea,  and  he  came 
to  shoal  water.  Now  the  swineherds  of  Matholch  were  upon 
the  seashore,  and  they  came  to  Matholch.  "  Lord,"  said  they, 
"  greeting  be  unto  thee."  "  Heaven  protect  you  !  "  said  he  ; 
"  have  you  any  news?  "  "  Lord,"  said  they,  "  we  have  marvel 
lous  news.  A  wood  have  we  seen  upon  the  sea,  in  a  place 
where  we  never  yet  saw  a  single  tree."  "  This  is  indeed  a 
marvel,"  said  he;  "saw  you  aught  else?"  "  We  saw,  lord," 
said  they,  "  a  vast  mountain  beside  the  wood,  which  moved, 
and  there  was  a  lofty  ridge  on  the  top  of  the  mountain,  and  a 

*  Caractacus. 


BRAN  WEN,  THE  DAUGHTER  OF  LLYR.        265 

lake  on  each  side  of  the  ridge.  And  the  wood  and  the  moun 
tain,  and  all  these  things  moved."  "Verily,"  said  he,  "there 
is  none  who  can  know  aught  concerning  this  unless  it  be 
Branwen."  % 

Messengers  then  went  imto  Branwen.  "  Lady,"  said  they, 
"  what  thinkest  thou  that  this  is?"  "The  men  of  the  Island 
of  the  Mighty,  who  have  come  hither  on  hearing  of  my  ill- 
treatment  and  of  my  woes."  "  What  is  the  forest  that  is  seen 
upon  the  sea?"  asked  they.  "The  yards  and  the  masts  of 
ships,"  she  answered.  "  Alas  !  "  said  they  ;  "  what  is  the  moun 
tain  that  is  seen  by  the  side  of  the  ships  ?  "  "  Bendigeid  Vran, 
my  brother,"  she  replied,  "  coming  to  shoal  water,  and  he  is  wad 
ing  to  the  land."  "  What  is  the  lofty  ridge,  with  the  lake  on 
each  side  thereof?"  "On  looking  towards  this  island  he  is 
wroth,  and  his  two  eyes  on  each  side  of  his  nose  are  the  two 
lakes  on  each  side  of  the  ridge." 

The  warriors  and  chief  men  of  Ireland  were  brought  toge 
ther  in  haste,  and  they  took  counsel.  "Lord,"  said  the  neigh 
bors  unto  Matholch,  "there  is  no  other  counsel  than  this  alone. 
Thou  shalt  give  the  kingdom  to  Gwern,  the  son  of  Branwen 
his  sister,  as  a  compensation  for  the  wrong  and  despite  that 
have  been  done  unto  Branwen.  And  he  will  make  peace  with 
thee."  And  in  the  council  it  was  resolved  that  this  message 
should  be  sent  to  Bendigeid  Vran,  lest  the  country  should  be 
destroyed.  And  this  peace  was  made.  And  Matholch  caused 
a  great  house  to  be  built  for  Bendigeid  Vran,  and  his  host. 
Thereupon  came  the  hosts  into  the  house.  The  men  of  the 
island  of  Ireland  entered  the  house  on  the  one  side,  and  the 
men  of  the  Island  of  the  Mighty  on  the  other.  And  as  soon 
as  they  had  sat  down,  there  was  concord  between  them  ;  and 
the  sovereignty  was  conferred  upon  the  boy.  When  the  peace 
was  concluded,  Bendigeid  Vran  called  the  boy  unto  him,  and 
from  Bendigeid  Vran  the  boy  went  unto  Manawyddan,  and  he 
was  beloved  by  all  that  beheld  him.  And  from  Manawyddan 
the  boy  was  called  by  Nissyen,  the  son  of  Euroswydd,  and  the 
boy  went  unto  him  lovingly.  "Wherefore,"  said  Evnissyen, 
"comes  not  my  nephew,  the  son  of  my  sister,  unto  me? 
Though  he  were  not  king  of  Ireland,  yet  willingly  would  I 


266  THE    MABLNOGEON. 

fondle  the  boy,"  "Cheerfully  let  him  go  to  thee,"  said  Bendi- 
geid  Vrau;  and  the  boy  went  unto  him  cheerfully.  "By  my 
confession  to  Heaven,"  said  Evnissyen  in  his  heart,  "  unthought 
of  is  the  slaughter  that  I  will  this  instant  commit." 

Then  he  arose  arid  took  up  the  boy,  and  before  any  one  in 
the  house  could  seize  hold  of  him  he  thrust  the  boy  headlong 
into  the  blazing  lire.  Arid  when  Branwen  saw  her  son  burning 
in  the  fire,  she  strove  to  leap  into  the  fire  also,  from  the  place 
where  she  sat  be  tween  her  two  brothers.  But  Bendigeid  Vran 
grasped  her  with  one  hand,  and  his  shield  with  the  other.  Then 
they  all  hurried  about  the  house,  and  never  was  there  made  so 
great  a  tumult  by  any  host  in  one  house  as  was  made  by  them, 
as  each  man  armed  himself.  And  while  they  all  sought  their 
arms  Bendigeid  Vran  supported  Branwen  between  his  shield 
and  his  shoulder.  And  they  fought. 

Then  the  Irish  kindled  a  fire  under  the  caldron  of  renovation, 
and  they  cast  the  dead  bodies  into  the  caldron  until  it  was  full ; 
and  the  next  day  they  came  forth  fighting  men,  as  good  as 
before,  except  that  they  were  not  able  to  speak.  Then  when 
Evnissyen  saw  the  dead  bodies  of  the  men  of  the  Island  of  the 
Mighty  nowhere  resuscitated,  he  said  in  his  heart,  "  Alas !  woe 
is  me,  that  I  should  have  been  the  cause  of  bringing  the  men  of 
the  Island  of  the  Mighty  into  so  great  a  strait.  Evil  betide 
me  if  I  find  not  a  deliverance  therefrom."  And  he  cast  him 
self  among  the  dead  bodies  of  the  Irish  ;  and  two  unshod  Irish 
men  came  to  him,  and  taking  him  to  be  one  of  the  Irish,  flung 
him  into  the  caldron.  And  he  stretched  himself  out  in  the 
caldron,  so  that  he  rent  the  caldron  into  four  pieces,  and  burst 
his  own  heart  also. 

In  consequence  of  this  the  men  of  the  Island  of  the  Mighty 
obtained  such  success  as  they  had ;  but  they  were  not 
victorious,  for  only  seven  men  of  them  all  escaped,  and  Bendi 
geid  Vran  himself  was  wounded  in  the  foot  with  a  poisoned 
dart.  Now  the  men  that  escaped  were  Pryderi,  Manawyddan, 
Taliesin,  and  four  others. 

And  Bendigeid  Vran  commanded  them  that  they  should  cut 
off  his  head.  "  And  take  you  my  head,"  said  he,  "  and  bear  it 
even  unto  the  White  Mount  in  London,  and  bury  it  there  with 


BRAXWEX,  THE  DAUGHTER  OF  LLYR.        267 

the  face  towards  France.  And  so  long  as  it  lies  there,  no 
enemy  shall  ever  land  on  the  island."  So  they  cut  off  his  head, 
and  these  seven  went  forward  therewith.  And  Branwen  was 
the  eighth  with  .them.  And  they  came  to  land  on  Aber  Alaw, 
and  they  sat  down  to  rest*  And  Branwen  looked  towards 
Ireland,  and  towards  the  Island  of  the  Mighty,  to  see  if  she 
could  descry  them.  "Alas!"  said  she,  "  woe  is  me  that  I  was 
ever  born ;  two  islands  have  been  destroyed  because  of  me." 
Then  she  uttered  a  groan,  and  there  broke  her  heart.  And 
they  made  her  a  four-sided  grave,  and  buried  her  upon  the 
banks  of  the  Alaw. 

Then  the  seven  men  journeyed  forward,  bearing  the  head 
with  them ;  and  as  they  went,  behold  there  met  them  a  multi 
tude  of  men  and  women.  "Have  you  any  tidings?"  said 
Manawyddan.  "We  have  none,"  said  they,  "save  that 
Caswallawn,*  the  son  of  Beli,  has  conquered  the  Island  of  the 
Mighty,  and  is  crowned  king  in  London."  "What  has 
become,"  said  they,  "  of  Caradoc,  the  son  of  Bran,  and  the 
seven  men  who  were  left  with  him  in  this  island?"  "Cas 
wallawn  came  upon  them,  and  slew  six  of  the  men,  and 
Caracloc's  heart  broke  for  grief  thereof."  And  the  seven  men 
journeyed  on  towards  London,  and  they  buried  the  head  in  the 
White  Mount,  as  Bendigeid  Yran  had  directed  them.f 

*  Cassivellaunus. 

t  There  is  a  Triad  upon  the  story  of  the  head  buried  under  the  "White  Tower 
of  London,  as  a  charm  against  invasion.  Arthur,  it  seems,  proudly  disinterred 
the  head,  preferring  to  hold  the  island  hy  his  own  strength  alone. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

MANAWYDDAK 

PWYLL    and   Rhiannon   had    a    son,   whom    they   named 
Pryderi.     And  when  he  was  grown  up,  Pwyll,  his  father, 
died.     And  Pryderi  married  Kicva,  the  daughter  of  Gwynn 
Gloy. 

Now  Manawyddan  returned  from  the  war  in  Ireland,  and  he 
found  that  his  cousin  had  seized  all  his  possessions,  and  much 
grief  and  heaviness  came  upon  him.  "Alas!  woe  is  me!"  he 
exclaimed  ;  "  there  is  none  save  myself  without  a  home  and  a 
resting-place."  "Lord,"  said  Pryderi,  "be  not  so  sorrowful. 
Thy  cousin  is  king  of  the  Island  of  the  Mighty,  and  though  he 
has  done  thee  wrong,  thou  hast  never  been  a  claimant  of  land 
or  possessions."  "Yea,"  answered  he,  "but  although  this  man 
is  my  cousin,  it  grieveth  me  to  see  any  one  in  the  place  of  my 
brother,  Bendigeid  Vran  ;  neither  can  I  be  happy  in  the  same 
dwelling  with  him."  "  Wilt  thou  follow  the  counsel  of 
another?"  said  Pryderi.  "I  stand  in  need  of  counsel,"  he 
answered,  "  and  what  may  that  counsel  be?"  "  Seven  cantrevs 


MANAWYDDAN.  269 

belong  unto  me,"  said  Pryderi,  "  wherein  Rhiannon,  my 
mother,  dwells.  I  will  bestow  her  upon  thee,  and  the  seven 
cantrevs  with  her ;  and  though  thou  hadst  no  possessions  but 
those  cantrevs  only,  thou  couldst  not  have  any  fairer  than  they. 
Do  thou  and  Rhiannon  enjoy  them ;  and  if  thou  desire  any 
possessions  thou  wilt  not  despise  these."  "I  do  not,  chief 
tain,"  said  he.  "Heaven  reward  thee  for  thy  friendship  !  I 
will  go  with  thee  to  seek  Rhiannon,  and  to  look  at  thy 
possessions."  "  Thou  wilt  do  well,"  he  answered ;  "  and  I 
believe  thou  didst  never  hear  a  lady  discourse  better  than  she, 
and  when  she  was  in  her  prime,  none  was  ever  fairer.  Even 
now  her  aspect  is  not  uncomely." 

They  set  forth,  and,  however  long  the  journey,  they  came  at 
last  to  Dyved ;  and  a  feast  was  prepared  for  them  by  Rhian 
non  and  Kicva.  Then  began  Manawyddan  and  Rhiannon  to 
sit  and  to  talk  together ;  and  his  mind  and  his  thoughts  be 
came  warmed  towards  her,  and  he  thought  in  his  heart  he  had 
never  beheld  any  lady  more  fulfilled  of  grace  and  beauty  than 
she.  "  Pryderi,"  said  he,  "  I  will  that  it  be  as  thou  didst  say." 
"  What  saying  was  that  ?  "  asked  Rhiannon.  "  Lady,"  said 
Pryderi,  "  I  did  offer  thee  as  a  wife  to  Manawyddan,  the  son  of 
Llyr."  "  By  that  will  I  gladly  abide,"  said  Rhiannon.  "  Right 
glad  am  I  also,"  said  Manawyddan  ;  "  may  Heaven  reward  him 
who  hath  shown  unto  me  friendship  so  perfect  as  this." 

And  before  the  feast  was  over  she  became  his  bride.  Said 
Pryderi,  "Tarry  ye  here  the  rest  of  the  feast,  and  I  will  go 
into  England  to  tender  my  homage  unto  Caswallawn,  the  son 
of  Beli."  "  Lord,"  said  Rhiannon,  "  Caswallawn  is  in  Kent ; 
thou  mayest  therefore  tarry  at  the  feast,  and  wait  until  he 
shall  be  nearer."  "We  will  wait,"  he  answered.  So  they 
finished  the  feast.  And  they  began  to  make  the  circuit  of 
Dyved,  and  to  hunt,  and  to  take  their  pleasure.  And  as  they 
went  through  the  country,  they  had  never  seen  lands  more 
pleasant  to  live  in,  nor  better  hunting-grounds,  nor  greater 
plenty  of  honey  and  fish.  And  such  was  the  friendship  be 
tween  these  four,  that  they  would  not  be  parted  from  each 
other  by  night  nor  by  day. 

And  in  the  midst  of  all  this  he  went  to  Caswallawn  at  Ox- 


270  THE    MABIXOGEOX. 

ford,  and  tendered  his  homage;  and  honorable  was  his  recep 
tion  there,  and  highly  was  he  praised  for  offering  his  homage. 

And  after  his  return  Pryderi  and  Manawyddan  feasted  and 
took  their  ease  and  pleasure.  And  they  began  a  feast  at  Nar- 
berth,  for  it  was  the  chief  palace.  And  when  they  had  ended 
the  first  meal,  while  those  who  served  them  ate,  they  arose  and 
went  forth,  and  proceeded  to  the  Gorsedd,  that  is,  the  Mound 
of  Narberth,  and  their  retinue  with  them.  And  as  they  sat 
thus,  behold  a  peal  of  thunder,  and  with  the  violence  of  the 
thunder-storm,  lo  !  there  came  a  fall  of  mist,  so  thick  that  not 
one  of  them  could  see  the  other.  And  after  the  mist  it  be 
came  light  all  around.  And  when  they  looked  towards  the 
place  where  they  were  wont  to  see  cattle  and  herds  and  dwell 
ings,  they  saw  nothing  now,  neither  house,  nor  beast,  nor 
smoke,  nor  fire,  nor  man,  nor  dwelling,  but  the  buildings  of 
the  court  empty,  and  'desert,  and  uninhabited,  without  either 
man  or  beast  within  them.  And  truly  all  their  companions 
were  lost  to  them,  without  their  knowing  aught  of  what  had 
befallen  them,  save  those  four  only. 

"In  the  name  of  Heaven,"  said  Manawyddan,  "where  are 
they  of  the  court,  and  all  my  host  beside  ?  Let  us  go  and  see." 

So  they  came  to  the  castle,  and  saw  no  man,  and  into  the 
hall,  and  to  the  sleeping-place,  and  there  was  none ;  and  in  the 
mead-cellar  and  in  the  kitchen  there  was  naught  but  desolation. 
Then  they  began  to  go  through  the  land,  and  all.  the  posses 
sions  that  they  had  ;  and  they  visited  the  houses  and  dwellings, 
and  found  nothing  but  wild  beasts.  And  when  they  had  con 
sumed  their  feast  and  all  their  provisions,  they  fed  upon  the 
prey  they  killed  in  hunting,  and  the  honey  of  the  wild  swarms. 

And  one  morning  Pryderi  and  Manawyddan  rose  up  to  hunt, 
and  they  ranged  their  dogs  and  went  forth.  And  some  of  the 
dogs  ran  before  them,  and  came  to  a  bush  which  was  near  at 
hand  ;  but  as  soon  as  they  were  come  to  the  bush,  they  hastily 
drew  back,  and  returned  to  the  men,  their  hair  bristling  up 
greatly.  "Let  us  go  near  to  the  bush,"  said  Pryderi,  "and  see 
what  is  in  it."  And  as  they  came  near,  behold,  a  wild  boar  of 
a,  pure  wrhite  color  rose  up  from  the  bush.  Then  the  dogs, 
being  set  on  by  the  men,  rushed  towards  him  ;  but  he  left  the 


MANAWYDDAN.  271 

bush,  and  fell  back  a  little  way  from  the  men,  and  made  a 
stand  against  the  dogs,  without  retreating  from  them,  until 
the  men  had  come  near.  And  when  the  men  came  up,  he  fell 
back  a  second  time,  and  betook  him  to  flight.  Then  they  pur 
sued  the  boar  until  they  beheld  a  vast  and  lofty  castle,  all 
newly  built,  in  a  place  where  they  had  never  before  seen  either 
stone  or  building.  And  the  boar  ran  swiftly  into  the  castle, 
and  the  dogs  after  him.  Now  when  the  boar  and  the  dogs 
had  gone  into  the  castle,  the  men  began  to  wonder  at  finding 
a  castle  in  a  place  where  they  had  never  seen  any  building 
whatsoever.  And  from  the  top  of  the  Gorsedd  they  looked 
and  listened  for  the  dogs.  But  so  long  as  they  were  there, 
they  heard  not  one  of  the  dogs,  nor  aught  concerning  them. 

"  Lord,"  said  Pryderi,  "  I  will  go  into  the  castle  to  get  tid 
ings  of  the  dogs."  "Truly,"  he  replied,  "thou  wouldst  be 
unwise  to  go  into  this  castle,  which  thou  hast  never  seen  till 
now.  If  thou  wouldst  follow  my  counsel,  thou  wouldst  not 
enter  therein.  Whosoever  has  cast  a  spell  over  this  land,  has 
caused  this  castle  to  be  here."  "  Of  a  truth,"  answered  Pry 
deri,  "  I  cannot  thus  give  up  my  dogs."  And  for  all  the  coun 
sel  that  Manawyddan  gave  him,  yet  to  the  castle  he  went. 

When  he  came  within  the  castle  neither  man,  nor  beast, 
nor  boar,  nor  dogs,  nor  house,  nor  dwelling,  saw  he  within  it, 
But  in  the  centre  of  the  castle  floor  he  beheld  a  fountain  with 
marble-work  around  it,  and  on  the  margin  of  the  fountain  a 
golden  bowl  upon  a  marble  slab,  and  chains  hanging  from  the 
air,  to  which  he  saw  no  end. 

And  he  was  greatly  pleased  with  the  beauty  of  the  gold,  and 
with  the  rich  workmanship  of  the  bowl ;  and  he  went  up  to 
the  bowl,  and  laid  hold  of  it.  And  when  he  had  taken  hold  of 
it  his  hands  stuck  to  the  bowl,  and  his  feet  to  the  slab  on  which 
the  bowl  was  placed  ;  and  all  his  joyousness  forsook  him,  so 
that  he  could  not  utter  a  word.  And  thus  he  stood. 

And  Manawyddan  waited  for  him  till  near  the  close  of  the 
day.  And  late  in  the  evening,  being  certain  that  he  should 
have  no  tidings  of  Pryderi  or  the  dogs,  he  went  back  to  the 
palace.  And  as  he  entered  Rhiannon  looked  at  him.  "  Where," 
said  she,  "  are  thy  companion  and  thy  dogs  ?  "  "  Behold,"  he 


272  THE    MABINOGEON. 

answered,  "the  adventure  that  has  befallen  me."  And  he 
related  it  all  unto  her.  "An  evil  companion  hast  thou  been," 
said  Rhiannon,  "  and  a  good  companion  hast  thou  lost."  And 
with  that  word  she  went  out,  and  proceeded  towards  the  cas 
tle,  according  to  the  direction  which  he  gave  her.  The  gate  of 
the  castle  she  found  open.  She  was  nothing  daunted,  and  she 
went  in.  And  as  she  went  in  she  perceived  Pryderi  laying  hold 
of  the  bowl,  and  she  went  towards  him.  "O  my  lord,"  said 
she,  "  what  dost  thou  here?  "  And  she  took  hold  of  the  bowl 
with  him;  and  as  she  did  so  her  hands  also  became  fast  to  the 
bowl,  and  her  feet  to  the  slab,  and  she  was  not  able  to  utter  a 
word.  And  with  that,  as  it  became  night,  lo !  there  came 
thunder  upon  them,  and  a  fall  of  mist ;  and  thereupon  the  cas 
tle  vanished,  and  they  with  it. 

When  Kicva,  the  daughter  of  Glynn  Gloy,  saw  that  there 
was  no  one  in  the  palace  but  herself  and  Manawyddan,  she 
sorrowed  so  that  she  cared  not  whether  she  lived  or  died.  And 
Manawyddan  saw  this.  "  Thou  art  in  the  wrong,"  said  he,  "  if 
through  fear  of  me  thou  grievest  thus.  I  call  Heaven  to  wit 
ness  that  thou  hast  never  seen  friendship  more  pure  than  that 
which  I  will  bear  thee,  as  long  as  Heaven  will  that  thou  shouldst 
be  thus.  I  declare  to  thee  that,  were  I  in  the  dawn  of  youth, 
I  would  keep  my  faith  unto  Pryderi,  and  unto  thee  also  will  I 
keep  it.  Be  there  no  fear  upon  thee,  therefore."  "  Heaven  re 
ward  thee  ! "  she  said  ;  "  and  that  is  what  I  deemed  of  thee." 
And  the  damsel  thereupon  took  courage,  and  was  glad. 

"  Truly,  lady,"  said  Manawyddan,  "  it  is  not  fitting  for  us  to 
stay  here ;  we  have  lost  our  dogs,  and  cannot  get  food.  Let 
us  go  into  England ;  it  is  easier  for  us  to  find  support  there." 
"  Gladly,  lord,"  said  she,  "  we  will  do  so."  And  they  set  forth 
together  to  England. 

"Lord,"  said  she,  "what  craft  wilt  thou  follow?  Take  up 
one  that  is  seemly."  "  None  other  will  I  take,"  answered  he, 
"  but  that  of  making  shoes."  "  Lord,"  said  she,  "  such  a  craft 
becomes  not  a  man  so  nobly  born  as  thou."  "By  that  how 
ever  will  I  abide,"  said  he.  "I  know  nothing  thereof,"  said 
Kicva.  "But  I  know,"  answered  Manawyddan,  "and  1 
will  teach  thee  to  stitch.  We  will  not  attempt  to  dress  the 


MANAWYDDAN.  273 

leather,  but  we  will  buy  it  ready  dressed,  and  will  make  the 
shoes  from  it." 

So  they  went  into  England,  and  went  as  far  as  Hereford ; 
and  they  betook  themselves  to  making  shoes.  And  he  began 
by  buying  the  best  cord  wain  that  could  be  had  in  town,  and 
none  other  would  he  buy.  And  he  associated  himself  with  the 
best  goldsmith  in  the  town,  and  caused  him  to  make  clasps  for 
the  shoes,  and  to  gild  the  clasps ;  and  he  marked  how  it  was 
done  until  he  learned  the  method.  And  therefore  is  he  called 
one  of  the  three  makers  of  gold  shoes.  And  when  they  could  be 
had  from  him  not  a  shoe  nor  hose  was  bought  from  any  of  the 
cordwainers  in  the  town.  But  when  the  cordwainers  perceived 
that  their  gains  were  failing  (for  as  Manawyddan  shaped  the 
work  so  Kicva  stitched  it),  they  came  together  and  took  counsel, 
and  agreed  that  they  would  slay  them.  And  he  had  warning 
thereof,  and  it  was  told  him  how  the  cordwainers  had  agreed 
to  slay  him. 

"  Lord,"  said  Kicva,  "  wherefore  should  this  be  borne  from 
these  boors  ?  "  "  Nay,"  said  he,  "  we  will  go  back  unto  Dyved." 
So  towards  Dyved  they  set  forth. 

Now  Manawyddan,  when  he  set  out  to  return  to  Dyved,  took 
with  him  a  burden  of  wheat.  And  he  proceeded  towards  Nar- 
berth,  and  there  he  dwelt.  And  never  was  he  better  pleased 
than  when  he  saw  Narberth  again,  and  the  lands  where  he 
had  been  wont  to  hunt  with  Pryderi  and  with  Rhiannon. 
And  he  accustomed  himself  to  fish  and  to  hunt  the  deer  in 
their  covert.  And  then  he  began  to  prepare  some  ground, 
and  he  sowed  a  croft,  and  a  second,  and  a  third.  And  no 
wheat  in  the  world  ever  sprung  up  better.  And  the  three 
crofts  prospered  with  perfect  growth,  and  no  man  ever  saw 
fairer  wheat  than  it. 

And  thus  passed  the  seasons  of  the  year  until  the  harvest 
came.  And  he  went  to  look  at  one  of  his  crofts,  and,  behold, 
it  was  ripe.  "I  will  reap  this  to-morrow,"  said  he.  And  that 
night  he  went  back  to  Narberth,  and  on  the  morrow,  in  the 
gray  dawn,  he  went  to  reap  the  croft;  and  when  he  came 
there  he  found  nothing  but  the  bare  straw.  Every  one  of  the 
ears  of  the  wheat  was  cut  off  from  the  stalk,  and  all  the  ears 


274  THE   MABINOGEON. 

carried  entirely  away,  and  nothing  but  the  straw  left.  And  at 
this  he  marvelled  greatly. 

Then  he  went  to  look  at  another  croft,  and,  behold,  that  also 
was  ripe.  "  Verily,"  said  he,  "this  will  I  reap  to-morrow." 
And  on  the  morrow  he  came  with  the  intent  to  reap  it ;  and 
when  he  came  there  he  found  nothing  but  the  bare  straw.  "  O 
gracious  Heaven  ! "  he  exclaimed,  "  I  know  that  whomsoever 
has  begun  my  ruin  is  completing  it,  and  has  also  destroyed  the 
country  with  me." 

Then  he  went  to  look  at  the  third  croft;  and  when  he  came 
there,  finer  wheat  had  there  never  been  seen,  and  this  also  was 
ripe.  "  Evil  betide  me,"  said  he,  "  if  I  watch  not  here  to 
night.  Whoever  carried  off  the  other  corn  will  come  in  like 
manner  to  take  this,  and  I  will  know  who  it  is."  And  he  told 
Kicva  all  that  had  befallen.  "Verily,"  said  she,  "  what  think- 
est  thou  to  do  ?  "  "I  will  watch  the  croft  to-night,"  said  he. 
And  he  went  to  watch  the  croft. 

And  at  midnight  he  heard  something  stirring  among  the 
wheat ;  and  he  looked,  and  behold,  the  mightiest  host  of  mice 
in  the  world,  which  could  neither  be  numbered  nor  measured. 
And  he  knew  not  what  it  was  until  the  mice  had  made  their 
way  into  the  croft,  and  each  of  them,  climbing  up  the  straw, 
and  bending  it  down  with  its  weight,  had  cut  off  one  of  the 
ears  of  wheat,  and  had  carried  it  aw^ay,  leaving  there  the 
stalk;  and  he  saw  not  a  single  straw  there  that  had  not  a 
mouse  to  it.  And  they  all  took  their  way,  carrying  the  ears 
with  them. 

In  wrath  and  anger  did  he  rush  upon  the  mice ;  but  he  could 
no  more  come  up  with  them  than  if  they  had  been  gnats  or 
birds  of  the  air,  except  one  only,  which,  though  it  was  but 
sluggish,  went  so  fast  that  a  man  on  foot  could  scarce  overtake 
it.  And  after  this  one  he  went,  and  he  caught  it,  and  put  it  in 
his  glove,  and  tied  up  the  opening  of  the  glove  with  a  string, 
and  kept  it  with  him,  and  returned  to  the  palace.  Then  he 
came  to  the  hall  where  Kicva  was,  and  he  lighted  a  fire,  and 
hung  the  glove  by  the  string  upon  a  peg.  "  What  hast  thou 
there,  lord?"  said  Kicva.  "A  thief,"  said  he,  "that  I  found 
robbing  me."  "  What  kind  of  a  thief  may  it  be,  lord,  that 


MANAWYDDAN.  275 

thou  couldst  put  into  thy  glove  ?  "  said  she.  Then  he  told  her 
how  the  mice  came  to  the  last  of  the  fields  in  his  sight.  "And 
one  of  them  was  less  nimble  than  the  rest,  and  is  now  in  my 
jjlove;  to-morrow  I  will  hang  it."  "My  lord,"  said  she,  "this 
is  marvellous ;  but  yet  it  Would  be  unseemly  for  a  man  of  dig 
nity  like  thee  to  be  hanging  such  a  reptile  as  this."  "  Woe 
betide  me,"  said  he,  "if  I  would  not  hang  them  all,  could  I 
catch  them,  and  such  as  I  have  I  will  hang/'  "  Verily,  lord," 
said  she,  "  there  is  no  reason  that  I  should  succor  this  reptile, 
except  to  prevent  discredit  unto  thee.  Do  therefore,  lord,  as 
thou  wilt." 

Then  he  went  to  the  Mound  of  Narberth,  taking  the  mouse 
with  him.  And  he  set  up  two  forks  on  the  highest  part  of  the 
mound.  And  while  he  was  doing  this,  behold,  he  saw  a  scholar 
coming  towards  him,  in  old  and  poor  and  tattered  garments. 
And  it  was  now  seven  years  since  he  had  seen  in  that  place 
either  man  or  beast,  except  those  four  persons  who  had  re 
mained  together  until  two  of  them  were  lost. 

"  My  lord,"  said  the  scholar,  "  good  day  to  thee."  "  Heaven 
prosper  thee,  and  my  greeting  be  unto  thee!  And  whence 
dost  thou  come,  scholar  ? "  asked  he.  "  I  come,  lord,  from 
singing  in  England  ;  and  wherefore  dost  thou  inquire  ?"  "  Be 
cause  for  the  last  seven  years,"  answered  he,  "  I  have  seen  no 
man  here  save  four  secluded  persons,  and  thyself  this  moment." 
"  Truly,  lord,"  said  he,  "I  go  through  this  land  unto  mine  own. 
And  what  work  art  thou  upon,  lord?"  "I  am  hanging  a  thief 
that  I  caught  robbing  me,"  said  he.  "  What  manner  of  thief 
is  that?"  asked  the  scholar.  "I  see  a  creature  in  thy  hand  like 
unto  a  mouse,  and  ill  does  it  become  a  man  of  rank  equal  to 
thine  to  touch  a  reptile  such  as  this.  Let  it  go  forth  free." 
"  I  will  not  let  it  go  free,  by  Heaven,"  said  he,  "  I  caught  it  rob 
bing  me,  and  the  doom  of  a  thief  will  I  inflict  upon  it,  and  I 
will  hang  it."  "  Lord,"  said  he,  "  rather  than  see  a  man  of 
rank  equal  to  thine  at  such  a  work  as  this,  I  would  give  thee  a 
pound,  which  I  have  received  as  alms,  to  let  the  reptile  go  forth 
free."  "I  will  not  let  it  go  free,"  said  he,  "  neither  will  I  sell 
it."  "  As  thou  wilt,  lord,"  he  answered ;  "  I  care  naught." 
And  the  scholar  went  his  way. 


276  THE    MABINOGEON. 

And  as  he  was  placing  the  cross-beam  upon  the  two  forks, 
behold,  a  priest  canie  towards  him,  upon  a  horse  covered  with 
trappings.  "  Good  day  to  thee,  lord,"  said  he.  "  Heaven  pros 
per  thee!"said  Manawyddan ;  "thy  blessing."  "  The  bless 
ing  of  Heaven  be  upon  thee !  And  what,  lord,  art  thou  do 
ing  ?  "  "I  am  hanging  a  thief  that  I  caught  robbing  me,"  said 
he.  "What  manner  of  thief,  lord?"  asked  he.  "  A  creature," 
he  answered,  "  in  form  of  a  mouse.  It  has  been  robbing  me, 
and  I  am  inflicting  upon  it  the  doom  of  a  thief."  "  Lord," 
said  he,  "  rather  than  see  thee  touch  this  reptile,  I  would  pur 
chase  its  freedom."  "  By  my  confession  to  Heaven,  neither 
will  I  sell  it  nor  set  it  free."  "  It  is  true,  lord,  that  it  is  worth 
nothing  to  buy;  but  rather  than  see  thee  defile  thyself  by 
touching  such  a  reptile  as  this,  I  will  give  thee  three  pounds  to 
let  it  go."  "  I  will  not,  by  Heaven,"  said  he,  "  take  any  price 
for  it.  As  it  ought,  so  shall  it  be  hanged."  And  the  priest 
went  his  way. 

Then  he  noosed  the  string  around  the  mouse's  neck,  and  as 
he  was  about  to  draw  it  up,  behold,  he  saw  a  bishop's  retinue, 
with  his  sumpter-horses  and  his  attendants.  And  the  bishop 
himself  came  towards  him.  And  he  stayed  his  work.  "  Lord 
Bishop,"  said  he,  "  thy  blessing."  "  Heaven's  blessing  be  unto 
thee  !  *  said  he.  "  What  work  art  thou  upon  ?  "  "  Hanging  a 
thief  that  I  caught  robbing  me,"  said  he.  "Is  not  that  a 
mouse  that  I  see  in  thy  hand?"  "Yes,"  answered  he,  "and 
she  has  robbed  me."  "  Ah,"  said  he,  "  since  I  have  come  at  the 
doom  of  this  reptile,  I  will  ransom  it  of  thee.  I  will  give  thee 
seven  pounds  for  it,  and  that  rather  than  see  a  man  of  rank 
equal  to  thine  destroying  so  vile  a  reptile  as  this.  Let  it  loose, 
and  thou  shalt  have  the  money."  "  I  declare  to  Heaven  that  I 
will  not  let  it  loose."  "  If  thou  wilt  not  loose  it  for  this,  I  will 
give  thee  four  and  twenty  pounds  of  ready  money  to  set  it 
free."  "  I  will  not  set  it  free,  by  Heaven,  for  as  much  again," 
said  he.  "  If  thou  wilt  not  set  it  free  for  this,  I  will  give  thee 
all  the  horses  that  thou  seest  in  this  plain,  and  the  seven  loads 
of  baggage,  and  the  seven  horses  that  they  are  upon."  "  By 
Heaven,  I  will  not,"  he  replied.  "  Since  for  this  thou  wilt  not 
set  it  free,  do  so  at  what  price  soever  thou  wilt."  "  I  will  that 


MANAWYDDAN.  277 

Rhiannon  and  Pryderi  be  free,"  said  he.  "  That  thou  shalt 
have,"  he  answered.  "  Not  yet  will  I  loose  the  mouse,  by 
Heaven."  "What  then  wouldst  thou?"  "That  the  charm 
and  the  illusion  be^removed  from  the  seven  cantrevsof  Dyved." 
"  This  shalt  thou  have  also  j,  set  therefore  the  mouse  free." 
"  I  will  not  set  it  free,  by  Heaven,"  said  he,  "  till  I  know  who 
the  mouse  may  be."  "  She  is  my  wife."  "  Wherefore  came  she 
to  me?"  "  To  despoil  thee,"  he  answered.  "  I  am  Lloyd,  the 
son  of  Kilwed,  and  I  cast  the  charm  over  the  seven  cantrevs  of 
Dyved.  And  it  was  to  avenge  Gawl,  the  son  of  Chid,  from  the 
friendship  that  I  had  towards  him,  that  I  cast  the  charm.  And 
upon  Pryderi  did  I  avenge  Gawl,  the  son  of  Clud,  for  the  game 
of  Badger  in  the  Bag,  that  Pwyll,  the  son  of  Auwyn,  played 
upon  him.  And  when  it  was  known  that  thou  wast  come  to 
dwell  in  the  land,  my  household  came  and  besought  me  to 
transform  them  into  mice,  that  they  might  destroy  thy  corn. 
And  they  went  the  first  and  the  second  night,  and  destroyed 
thy  two  crops.  And  the  third  night  came  unto  me  my  wife  and 
the  ladies  of  the  court,  and  besought  me  to  transform  them. 
And  I  transformed  them.  Now  she  is  not  in  her  usual  health. 
And  had  she  been  in  her  usual  health,  thou  wouldst  not  have 
been  able  to  overtake  her ;  but  since  this  has  taken  place,  and 
she  has  been  caught,  I  will  restore  to  thee  Pryderi  and  Rhian 
non,  and  I  will  take  the  charm  and  illusion  from  off  Dyved. 
Set  her  therefore  free."  "  I  will  not  set  her  free  yet."  "  What 
wilt  thou  more?"  he  asked.  "I  will  that  there  be  no  more 
charm  upon  the  seven  cantrevs  of  Dyved,  and  that  none  shall 
be  put  upon  it  henceforth  ;  moreover,  that  vengeance  be  never 
taken  for  this,  either  upon  Pryderi  or  Rhiannon,  or  upon  me." 
"  All  this  shalt  thou  have.  And  truly  thou  hast  done  wisely  in 
asking  this.  Upon  thy  head  would  have  lit  all  this  trouble." 
"  Yea,"  said  he,  "  for  fear  thereof  was  it  that  I  required  this." 
"  Set  now  my  wife  at  liberty."  "  I  will  not,"  said  he,  "  until  I 
see  Pryderi  and  Rhiannon  with  me  free."  "  Behold,  here  they 
come,"  he  answered. 

And  thereupon  behold  Pryderi  and  Rhiannon.  And  he  rose 
up  to  meet  them,  and  greeted  them,  and  sat  down  beside  them. 
"  Ah,  chieftain,  set  now  my  wife  at  liberty,"  said  the  bishop. 


278  THE    MABINOGEON. 

"  Hast  thou  not  received  all  thou  didst  ask?"  "  I  will  release 
her,  gladly,"  said  he.  And  thereupon  he  set  her  free. 

Then  he  struck  her  with  a  magic  wand,  and  she  was  changed 
back  into  a  young  woman,  the  fairest  ever  seen. 

"  Look  round  upon  thy  land,"  said  he,  "  and  thou  wilt  see 
it  all  tilled  and  peopled  as  it  was  in  its  best  estate."  And  he 
rose  up  and  looked  forth.  And  when  he  looked  he  saw  all  the 
lands  tilled,  and  full  of  herds  and  dwellings. 

And  thus  ends  this  portion  of  the  Mabinogi. 


The  following  allusions  to  the  proceeding  story  are  found  in 
a  letter  of  the  poet  Southey  to  John  Rickman,  Esq.,  dated 
June  6th,  1802:  — 

"  You  will  read  the  Mabinogeon,  concerning  which  I  ought 
to  have  talked  to  you.  In  the  last,  that  most  odd  and 
Arabian-like  story  of  the  mouse,  mention  is  made  of  a  begging 
scholar,  that  helps  to  the  date  ;  but  where  did  the  Cymri  get 
the  imagination  that  could  produce  such  a  tale  ?  That  enchant 
ment  of  the  basin  hanging  by  the  chain  from  heaven  is  in  the 
wildest  spirit  of  the  Arabian  Nights.  I  am  perfectly  astonished 
that  such  fictions  should  exist  in  Welsh.  They  throw  no  light 
on  the  origin  of  romance,  everything  being  utterly  dissimilar 
to  what  we  mean  by  that  term,  but  they  do  open  a  new  world 
of  fiction ;  and  if  the  date  of  their  language  be  fixed  about  the 
twelfth  or  thirteenth  century,  I  cannot  but  think  the  mytho 
logical  substance  is  of  far  earlier  date ;  very  probably  brought 
from  the  East  by  some  of  the  first  settlers  or  conquerors." 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 


KILWICH    AND    OLWEN. 

KILYDD,  the  son  of  Prince  Kelyddon,  desired  a  wife  as  a 
helpmate,  and  the  wife  that  he  chose  was  Goleudid,  the 
daughter  of  Prince  Anlawd.  And  after  their  union  the  people 
put  up  prayers  that  they  might  have  an  heir.  And  they  had  a 
son  through  the  prayers  of  the  people;  and  called  his  name 
Kilwich. 

After  this  the  boy's  mother,  Goleudid,  the  daughter  of  Prince 
Anlawd,  fell  sick.  Then  she  called  her  husband  to  her,  and 
said  to  him,  "  Of  this  sickness  I  shall  die,  and  thou  wilt  take 
another  wife.  Now  wives  are  the  gift  of  the  Lord,  but  it 
would  be  wrong  for  thee  to  harm  thy  son.  Therefore  I  charge 
thee  that  thou  take  not  a  wife  until  thou  see  a  briar  with  two 
blossoms  upon  my  grave."  And  this  he  promised  her.  Then 
she  besought  him  to  dress  her  grave  every  year,  that  no  weeds 
might  grow  thereon.  So  the  queen  died.  Now  the  king  sent 
an  attendant  every  morning  to  see  if  anything  were  growing 
upon  the  grave.  And  at  the  end  of  the  seventh  year  they 
neglected  that  which  they  had  promised  to  the  queen. 

279 


280  THE    MABINOGEON. 

One  day  the  king  went  to  hunt ;  and  he  rode  to  the  place  of 
burial,  to  see  the  grave,  and  to  know  if  it  were  time  that  he 
should  take  a  wife ;  and  the  king  saw  the  briar.  And  when 
he  saw  it,  the  king  took  counsel  where  he  should  find  a  wife. 
Said  one  of  his  counsellors,  "  I  know  a  wife  that  will  suit  thee 
well;  and  she  is  the  wife  of  King  Doged."  And  they  re 
solved  to  go  to  seek  her ;  and  they  slew  the  king,  and  brought 
away  his  wife.  And  they  conquered  the  king's  lands.  And  he 
married  the  widow  of  King  Doged,  the  sister  of  Yspadaden 
Penkawr. 

And  one  day  his  stepmother  said  to  Kilwich,  "  It  were  well 
for  thee  to  have  a  wife."  "  I  am  not  yet  of  an  age  to  wed," 
answered  the  youth.  Then  said  she  unto  him,  "I  declare  to 
thee  that  it  is  thy  destiny  not  to  be  suited  with  a  wife  until 
thou  obtain  Olwen,  the  daughter  of  Yspadaden  Penkawr." 
And  the  youth  blushed,  and  the  love  of  the  maiden  diffused 
itself  through  all  his  frame,  although  he  had  never  seen  her. 
And  his  father  inquired  of  him,  "  What  has  come  over  thee, 
my  son,  and  what  aileth  thee?"  "My  stepmother  has 
declared  to  me  that  I  shall  never  have  a  wife  until  I  obtain 
Olwen,  the  daughter  of  Yspadaden  Penkawr."  "That  will 
be  easy  for  thee,"  answered  his  father.  "Arthur  is  thy  cousin. 
Go,  therefore,  unto  Arthur,  to  cut  thy  hair,  and  ask  this  of  him 
as  a  boon." 

And  the  youth  pricked  forth  upon  a  steed  with  head  dappled 
gray,  four  winters  old,  firm  of  limb,  with  shell-formed  hoofs, 
having  a  bridle  of  linked  gold  on  his  head,  and  upon  him  a 
saddle  of  costly  gold.  And  in  the  youth's  hand  were  two 
spears  of  silver,  sharp,  well  tempered,  headed  with  steel,  three 
ells  in  length,  of  an  edge  to  wound  the  wind,  and  cause  blood 
to  flow,  and  swifter  than  the  fall  of  the  dew-drop  from  the 
blade  of  reed-grass,  when  the  dew  of  June  is  at  the  heaviest. 
A  gold-hilted  sword  wras  upon  his  thigh,  the  blade  of  which 
was  gilded,  bearing  a  cross  of  inlaid  gold  of  the  hue  of  the 
lightning  of  heaven.  His  war-horn  was  of  ivory.  Before  him 
were  two  brindled,  white-breasted  greyhounds,  having  strong 
collars  of  rubies  about  their  necks,  reaching  from  the  shoulder 
to  the  ear.  And  the  one  that  was  upon  the  left  side  bounded 


KILWICH    AND    OLWEN.  281 

across  to  the  right  side,  and  the  one  on  the  right  to  the  left, 
and,  like  two  sea-swallows,  sported  around  him.  And  his 
courser  cast  up  four  sods,  with  his  four  hoofs,  like  four  swal 
lows  in  the  air,  about  his  head,  now  above,  now  below.  About 
him  was  a  four-cornered  cloth  of  purple,  and  an  apple  of  gold 
was  at  each  corner,  and  every  one  of  the  apples  was  of  the 
value  of  an  hundred  kine.  And  there  was  precious  gold  of  the 
value  of  three  hundred  kine  upon  his  shoes,  and  upon  his 
stirrups,  from  his  knee  to  the  tip  of  his  toe.  And  the  blade  of 
grass  bent  not  beneath  him,  so  light  was  his  courser's  tread,  as 
he  journeyed  toward  the  gate  of  Arthur's  palace. 

Spoke  the  youth  :  "Is  there  a  porter?  "  "There  is  ;  and  if 
thou  holdest  not  thy  peace,  small  will  be  thy  welcome.  I  am 
Arthur's  porter  every  first  day  of  January."  "  Open  the 
portal."  "I  will  not  open  it."  "Wherefore  not?"  "The 
knife  is  in  the  meat,  and  the  drink  is  in-  the  horn,  and  there  is 
revelry  in  Arthur's  hall ;  and  none  may  enter  therein  but  the 
son  of  a  king  of  a  privileged  country,  or  a  craftsman  bringing 
his  craft.  But  there  will  be  refreshment  for  thy  dogs  and  for 
thy  horse;  and  for  thee  there  will  be  collops  cooked  and 
peppered,  and  luscious  wine,  and  mirthful  songs  ;  and  food  for 
fifty  men  shall  be  brought  unto  thee  in  the  guest-chamber, 
where  the  stranger  and  the  sons  of  other  countries  eat,  who 
come  not  into  the  precincts  of  the  palace  of  Arthur.  Thou  wilt 
fare  no  worse  there  than  thou  wouldst  with  Arthur  in  the 
court.  A  lady  shall  smooth  thy  couch,  and  shall  lull  thee  with 
songs ;  and  early  to-morrow  morning,  when  the  gate  is  open 
for  the  multitude  that  come  hither  to-day,  for  thee  shall  it  be 
opened  first,  and  thou  mayest  sit  in  the  place  that  thou  shalt 
choose  in  Arthur's  hall,  from  the  upper  end  to  the  lower." 
Said  the  youth:  "That  will  I  not  do.  If  thou  openest  the 
gate,  it  is  well.  If  thou  dost  not  open  it,  I  will  bring  disgrace 
upon  thy  lord,  and  evil  report  upon  thee.  And  I  will  set  up 
three  shouts  at  this  very  gate,  than  which  none  were  ever 
heard  more  deadly."  "  What  clamor  soever  thou  mayest 
make,"  said  Glewlwyd  the  porter,  "against  the  laws  of 
Arthur's  palace,  shalt  thou  not  enter  therein,  until  I  first  go 
and  speak  with  Arthur." 


282  THE    MABINOGEON. 

Then  Glewlwyd  went  into  the  hall.  And  Arthur  said  to 
him,  "  Hast  thou  news  from  the  gate  ?  "  "  Half  of  my  life  is 
passed,"  said  Glewlwyd,  "  and  half  of  thine.  I  was  heretofore 
in  Kaer  Se  and  Asse,  in  Sach  and  Salach,  in  Lotor  and  Fotor, 
and  I  have  been  in  India  the  Great  and  India  the  Lesser,  and  I 
have  also  been  in  Europe  and  Africa,  and  in  the  islands  of 
Corsica,  and  I  was  present  when  thou  didst  conquer  Greece  in 
the  East.  Nine  supreme  sovereigns,  handsome  men,  saw  we 
there,  but  never  did  I  behold  a  man  of  equal  dignity  with  him 
who  is  now  at  the  door  of  the  portal."  Then  said  Arthur,  "  If 
walking  thou  didst  enter  here,  return  thou  running.  It  is  un 
becoming  to  keep  such  a  man  as  thou  sayest  he  is  in  the  wind 
and  the  rain."  Said  Kay  :  "  By  the  hand  of  my  friend,  if  thou 
wouldst  follow  my  counsel,  thou  wouldst  not  break  through 
the  laws  of  the  court  because  of  him."  "Not  so,  blessed  Kay," 
said  Arthur ;  "  it  is  an  honor  to  us  to  be  resorted  to,  and  the 
greater  our  courtesy,  the  greater  will  be  our  renown  and  our 
fame  and  our  glory." 

And  Glewlwyd  came  to  the  gate,  and  opened  the  gate  before 
Kilwich ;  and  although  all  dismounted  upon  the  horse-block  at 
the  gate,  yet  did  he  not  dismount,  but  he  rode  in  upon  his 
charger.  Then  said  he,  "  Greeting  be  unto  thee,  sovereign 
ruler  of  this  island,  and  be  this  greeting  no  less  unto  the 
lowest  than  unto  the  highest,  and  be  it  equally  unto  thy  guests 
and  thy  warriors  and  thy  chieftains;  let  all  partake  of  it 
as  completely  as  thyself.  And  complete  be  thy  favor  and  thy 
fame  and  thy  glory,  throughout  all  this  island."  "Greeting 
unto  thee  also,"  said  Arthur ;  "  sit  thou  between  two  of  my 
warriors,  and  thou  shalt  have  minstrels  before  thee,  and  thou 
shalt  enjoy  the  privileges  of  a  king  born  to  a  throne,  as  long  as 
thou  remainest  here.  And  when  I  dispense  my  presents  to  the 
visitors  and  strangers  in  this  court,  they  shall  be  in  thy  hand 
at  my  commencing."  Said  the  youth :  "  I  came  not  here  to 
consume  meat  and  drink ;  but  if  I  obtain  the  boon  that  I  seek, 
I  will  requite  it  thee,  and  extol  thee ;  but  if  I  have  it  not  I  will 
bear  forth  thy  dispraise  to  the  four  quarters  of  the  world,  as 
far  as  thy  renown  has  extended."  Then  said  Arthur,  "  Since 
thou  wilt  not  remain  here,  chieftain,  thou  shalt  receive  the 


KILWICH    AND    OLWEN.  283 

boon,  whatsoever  thy  tongue  may  name,  as  far  as  the  wind 
dries,  and  the  rain  moistens,  and  the  sun  revolves,  and  the  sea 
encircles,  and  the  earth  extends  ;  save  only  my  ship  Prydwen, 
and  my  mantle,*  and  Caleburn,  my  sword,  and  Rhongomyant, 
my  lance,  and  Guenever,  mvy  wife.  By  the  truth  of  Heaven, 
thou  shalt  have  it  cheerfully,  name  what  thou  wilt."  "I 
would  that  thou  bless  my  hair,"  said  he.  "That  shall  be 
granted  thee." 

And  Arthur  took  a  golden  comb,  and  scissors  whereof  the 
loops  were  of  silver,  and  he  combed  his  hair.  And  Arthur 
inquired  of  him  who  he  was;  "for  my  heart  warms  unto  thee, 
and  I  know  that  thou  art  come  of  my  blood.  Tell  me,  there 
fore,  who  thou  art."  "I  will  tell  thee,"  said  the  youth.  "I 
am  Kilwich,  the  son  of  Kilydd,  the  son  of  Prince  Kelyddon,  by 
Goleudyd  my  mother,  the  daughter  of  Prince  Anlawd." 
"  That  is  true,"  said  Arthur  ;  "  thou  art  my  cousin.  Whatso 
ever  boon  thou  mayest  ask,  thou  shalt  receive,  be  it  what  it 
may  that  thy  tongue  shall  name."  "Pledge  the  truth  of 
Heaven  and  the  faith  of  thy  kingdom  thereof."  "  I  pledge  it 
thee  gladly."  "  I  crave  of  thee,  then,  that  thou  obtain  for  me 
Olwen,  the  daughter  of  Yspadaden  Penkawr,  to  wife  ;  and  this 
boon  I  likewise  seek  at  the  hands  of  thy  warriors.  I  seek  it 
from  Kay  and  from  Bedwyr;  and  from  Gwynn,  the  son  of 
Kudd,  and  Gadwy,  the  son  of  Geraint,  and  Prince  Flewddur 
Flam,  and  lona,  king  of  France,  and  Sel,  the  son  of  Selgi,  and 
Taliesin,  the  chief  of  the  bards,  and  Geraint,  the  son  of  Erbin, 
Garanwyn,  the  son  of  Kay,  and  Amren,  the  son  of  Bedwyr,  Ol, 
the  son  of  Olwyd,  Bedwin,  the  bishop,  Guenever,  the  chief 
lady,  and  Guenhywach,  her  sister,  Morved,  the  daughter  of 
Urien,  and  Gwenlian  Deg,  the  majestic  maiden,  Creiddylad,* 
the  daughter  of  Lludd,  the  constant  maiden,  and  Ewaedan,  the 


*  Creicldylad  is  no  other  than  Shakespeare's  Cordelia,  whose  lather,  King 
Lear,  is  by  the  Welsh  authorities  called  indiscriminately  Llyr  or  Llydd.  All  the 
old  chroniclers  give  the  story  of  her  devotion  to  her  aged  parent,  but  none  of 
them  seem  to  have  been  aware  that  she  is  destined  to  remain  with  him  till  the  clay 
of  doom,  whilst  Gwyn  ap  Nudd,  the  king  of  the  fairies,  and  Gwythyr  ap  Greidiol, 
fight  for  her  every  first  of  May,  and  whichever  of  them  may  be  fortunate  enough 
to  be  the  conqueror  at  that  time  will  obtain  her  as  his  bride. 


284  THE    MABINOGEON. 

daughter  of  Kynvelyn,*  the  half-man."  All  these  did  Kilwich, 
the  son  of  Kilydd,  adjure  to  obtain  his  boon. 

Then  said  Arthur,  "  O  chieftain,  I  have  never  heard  of  the 
maiden  of  whom  thou  speakest,  nor  of  her  kindred,  but  I  will 
gladly  send  messengers  in  search  of  her.  Give  me  time  to  seek 
her."  And  the  youth  said,  "  I  will  willingly  grant  from  this 
night  to  that  at  the  end  of  the  year  to  do  so."  Then  Arthur 
sent  messengers  to  every  land  within  his  dominions  to  seek  for 
the  maiden,  and  at  the  end  of  the  year  Arthur's  messengers 
returned  without  having  gained  any  knowledge  or  intelligence 
concerning  Olwen  more  than  on  the  first  day.  Then  said  Kil 
wich,  "  Every  one  has  received  his  boon,  and  I  yet  lack  mine. 
I  will  depart,  and  bear  away  thine  honor  with  me."  Then  said 
Kay,  "Rash  chieftain  !  dost  thou  reproach  Arthur?  Go  with 
us,  and  we  will  not  part  until  thou  dost  either  confess  that  the 
maiden  exists  not  in  the  world,  or  until  we  obtain  her." 
Thereupon  Kay  rose  up.  And  Arthur  called  Bedwyr,  who 
never  shrank  from  any  enterprise  upon  which  Kay  was  bound. 
None  were  equal  to  him  in  swiftness  throughout  this  island 
except  Arthur  alone;  and  although  he  was  one-handed  three 
warriors  could  not  shed  blood  faster  than  he  on  the  field  of 
battle. 

And  Arthur  called  to  Kyndelig,  the  guide,  "  Go  thou  upon 
this  expedition  with  the  chieftain."  For  as  good  a  guide  was 
he  in  a  land  which  he  had  never  seen  as  he  was  in  his  own. 

He  called  Gurhyr  Gwalstat,  because  he  knew  all  tongues. 

He  called  Gawain,  the  son  of  Gwyar,  because  he  never 
returned  home  without  achieving  the  adventure  of  which  he 
went  in  quest. 

And  Arthur  called  Meneu,  the  son  of  Teirgwed,  in  order 
that,  if  they  went  into  a  savage  country,  he  might  cast  a  charm 

*  The  Welsh  have  a  fable  on  the  subject  of  the  half-man,  taken  to  be  illustra 
tive  of  the  force  of  habit.  In  this  allegory  Arthur  is  supposed  to  be  met  by  a 
sprite,  who  appears  at  first  in  a  small  and  indistinct  form,  but  who,  on  approach 
ing  nearer,  increases  in  size,  and,  assuming  the  semblance  of  half  a  man,  endeav 
ors  to  provoke  the  king  to  wrestle.  Despising  his  weakness,  and  considering  that 
he  should  gain  no  credit  by  the  encounter,  Arthur  refuses  to  do  so,  and  delays  the 
contest  until  at  length  the  half-man  ( Habit)  becomes  so  strong  that  it  requires  hii 
utmost  efforts  to  overcome  him. 


KILWICH    AND    OLWEN.  285 

and  an  illusion  over  them,  so  that  none  might  see  them  whilst 
they  could  see  every  one. 

They  journeyed  until  they  came  to  a  vast  open  plain,  wherein 
they  saw  a  great  castle,  which  was  the  fairest  of  the  castles  of 
the  world.  And  when  -they  came  before  the  castle  they  beheld 
a  vast  flock  of  sheep.  And  upon  the  top  of  a  mound  there 
was  a  herdsman  keeping  the  sheep.  And  a  rug  made  of  skins 
was  upon  him,  and  by  his  side  was  a  shaggy  mastiff,  larger 
than  a  steed  nine  winters  old. 

Then  said  Kay,  "  Gurhyr  Gwalstat,  go  thou  and  salute  yon 
der  man."  "Kay,"  said  he,  "I  engaged  not  to  go  further  than 
thou  thyself."  "Let  us  go  then  together,"  answered  Kay. 
Said  Meneu,  "  Fear  not  to  go  thither,  for  I  will  cast  a  spell 
upon  the  dog  so  that  he  shall  injure  no  one."  And  they  went 
up  to  the  mound  whereon  the  herdsman  was,  and  they  said 
to  him,  "How  dost  thou  fare,  herdsman  ?"  "Not  less  fair  be 
it  to  you  than  to  me."  "  Whose  are  the  sheep  that  thou  dost 
keep,  and  to  whom  does  yonder  castle  belong?  "  "  Stupid  are 
ye,  truly !  not  to  know  that  this  is  the  castle  of  Yspadaden 
Penkawr.  And  ye  also,  who  are  ye?"  "We  are  an  embassy 
from  Arthur,  come  to  seek  Olwen,  the  daughter  of  Yspadaden 
Penkawr."  "  O  men  !  the  mercy  of  Heaven  be  upon  you  ;  do 
not  that  for  all  the  world.  None  who  ever  came  hither  on  this 
quest  has  returned  alive."  And  the  herdsman  rose  up.  And 
as  he  rose  Kilwich  gave  unto  him  a  ring  of  gold.  And  he 
went  home  and  gave  the  ring  to  his  spouse  to  keep.  And  she 
took  the  ring  when  it  was  given  her,  and  she  said,  "  Whence 
came  this  ring,  for  thou  art  not  wont  to  have  good  fortune?" 
"  O  wife,  him  to  whom  this  ring  belonged  thou  shalt  see  here 
this  evening."  "And  who  is  he?  "asked  the  woman.  "Kil 
wich,  the  son  of  Kilydd,  by  Goleudid,  the  daughter  of  Prince 
Anlawd,  who  is  come  to  seek  Olwen  as  his  wife."  And  when 
she  heard  that,  she  had  joy  that  her  nephew,  the  son  of  her 
sister,  was  coming  to  her,  and  sorrow  because  she  had  never 
known  any  one  depart  alive  who  had  come  on  that  quest. 

And  the  men  went  forward  to  the  gate  of  the  herdsman's 
dwelling.  And  when  she  heard  their  footsteps  approaching 
she  ran  out  with  joy  to  meet  them.  And  Kay  snatched  a  bil- 


286  THE    MABINOGEON. 

let  out  of  the  pile.  And  when  she  met  them  she  sought  to 
throw  her  arms  about  their  necks.  Arid  Kay  placed  the  log 
betvveen  ner  two  hands,  and  she  squeezed  it  so  that  it  became 
a  twisted  coil.  "  O  woman,"  said  Kay,  "  if  thou  hadst  squeezed 
me  thus  none  could  ever  again  set  their  affections  on  me.  Evil 
love  were  this."  They  entered  into  the  house  and  were  served  ; 
and  soon  after  they  all  went  forth  to  amuse  themselves.  Then 
the  woman  opened  a  stone  chest  that  was  before  the  chimney- 
corner,  and  out  of  it  rose  a  youth  with  yellow,  curling  hair. 
Said  Gurhyr,  "  It  is  a  pity  to  hide  this  youth.  I  know  that  it 
is  not  his  own  crime  that  is  thus  visited  upon  him."  "This  is 
but  a  remnant,"  said  the  woman.  "  Three  and  twenty  of  my 
sons  has  Yspadaden  Penkawr  slain,  and  I  have  no  more  hope 
of  this  one  than  of  the  others."  Then  said  Kay,  "  Let  him 
come  and  be  a  companion  with  me  and  he  shall  not  be  slain 
unless  I  also  am  slain  with  him."  And  they  ate.  And  the 
woman  asked  them,  "Upon  what  errand  come  you  here?" 
"We  come  to  seek  Olwen  for  this  youth."  Then  said  the 
woman,  "In  the  name  of  Heaven,  since  no  one  from  the  castle 
hath  yet  seen  you,  return  again  whence  you  came."  "  Heaven 
is  our  witness  that  we  will  not  return  until  we  have  seen  the 
maiden.  Does  she  ever  come  hither,  so  that  she  may  be  seen?" 
"  She  comes  here  every  Saturday  to  wash  her  head,  and  in  the 
vessel  where  she  washes  she  leaves  all  her  rings,  and  she  never 
either  comes  herself  or  sends  any  messenger  to  fetch  them." 
"  Will  she  come  here  if  she  is  sent  to?"  "  Heaven  knows  that 
I  will  not  destroy  my  soul,  nor  will  I  betray  those  that  trust 
me;  unless  you  will  pledge  me  your  faith  that  you  will  not 
harm  her  I  will  not  send  to  her."  "We  pledge  it,"  said  they. 
So  a  message  was  sent,  and  she  came. 

The  maiden  was  clothed  in  a  robe  of  flame-colored  silk,  and 
about  her  neck  was  a  collar  of  ruddy  gold,  on  which  were 
precious  emeralds  and  rubies.  More  yellow  was  her  head  than 
the  flower  of  the  broom,*  and  her  skin  was  whiter  than  the 
foam  of  the  wave,  and  fairer  were  her  hands  and  her  lingers 

*  The  romancers  dwell  with  great  complacency  on  the  fair  hair  and  delicate 
complexion  of  their  heroines.  This  taste  continued  for  a  long  time,  and  to  ren 
der  the  hair  light  was  an  object  of  education.  Even  when  wigs  came  into  fashi 


on 


KILWICH    AND    OLWEN.  287 

than  the  blossoms  of  the  wood-anem-one  amidst  the  spray  of 
the  meadow  fountain.  The  eye  of  the  trained  hawk  was  not 
brighter  than  hers.  Her  bosom  was  more  snowy  than  the 
breast  of  the  white  swan,  her  cheek  was  redder  than  the  red 
dest  roses.  Whoso  beheld  "her  was  filled  with  her  love.  Four 
white  trefoils  sprung  up  wherever  she  trod.  And  therefore 
was  she  called  Olwen. 

She  entered  the  house  and  sat  beside  Kilwich  upon  the  fore 
most  bench ;  and  as  soon  as  he  saw  her  he  knew  her.  And 
Kilwich  said  unto  her,  "Ah!  maiden,  thou  art  she  whom  I 
have  loved ;  come  away  with  me,  lest  they  speak  evil  of  thee 
and  of  me.  Many  a  day  have  I  loved  thee."  "  I  cannot  do 
this,  for  I  have  pledged  my  faith  to  my  father  not  to  go  with 
out  his  counsel,  for  his  life  will  last  only  until  the  time  of  my 
espousals.  Whatever  is  to  be,  must  be.  But  I  will  give  thee 
advice,  if  thou  wilt  take  it.  Go  ask  me  of  my  father,  and  that 
which  he  shall  require  of  thee,  grant  it,  and  thou  wilt  obtain 
me ;  but  if  thou  deny  him  anything,  thou  wilt  not  obtain  rne, 
and  it  will  be  well  for  thee  if  thou  escape  with  thy  life."  "  I 
promise  all  this,  if  occasion  offer,"  said  he. 

She  returned  to  her  chamber,  and  they  all  rose  up,  and  fol 
lowed  her  to  the  castle.  And  they  slew  the  nine  porters,  that 
were  at  the  nine  gates,  in  silence.  And  they  slew  the  nine 
watch-dogs  without  one  of  them  barking.  And  they  went 
forward  to  the  hall. 

"  The  greeting  of  Heaven  and  of  man  be  unto  thee,  Yspa- 
daden  Penkawr,"  said  they.  "And  you,  wherefore  come 
you?"  "We  come  to  ask  thy  daughter  Olwen  for  Kilwich, 
the  son  of  Kilydd,  the  son  of  Prince  Kelyddon."  "  Where 
are  my  pages  and  my  servants  \  Raise  up  the  forks  beneath 
my  two  eyebrows,  which  have  fallen  over  my  eyes,  that  I  may 
see  the  fashion  of  my  son-in-law."  And  they  did  so.  "  Come 
hither  to-morrow,  and  you  shall  have  an  answer." 

They  rose  to  go  forth,  and  Yspadaden  Penkawr  seized  one 
of  the  three  poisoned  darts  that  lay  beside  him,  and  threw  it 

they  were  all  flaxen.  Such  was  the  color  of  the  hair  of  the  Gauls  and  of  their 
German  conquerors.  It  required  some  centuries  to  reconcile  their  eyes  to  the 
swarthy  beauties  of  their  Spanish  and  Italian  neighbors. 


288  THE    MABINOGEOX. 

after  them.  And  Bcdwyr  caught  it,  and  flung  it,  and  pierced 
Yspadaden  Penkawr  grievously  with  it  through  the  knee. 
Then  he  said,  "  A  cursed  ungentle  son-in-law,  truly !  I  shall 
ever  walk  the  worse  for  his  rudeness,  and  shall  ever  be  without 
a  cure.  This  poisoned  iron  pains  me  like  the  bite  of  a  gad-fly. 
Cursed  be  the  smith  who  forged  it,  and  the  anvil  on  which  it 
was  wrought !  So  sharp  is  it !  " 

That  night  also  they  took  up  their  abode  in  the  house  of  the 
herdsman.  The  next  day,  with  the  dawn,  they  arrayed  them 
selves  and  proceeded  to  the  castle,  and  entered  the  hall ;  and 
they  said,  "  Yspadaden  Penkawr,  give  us  thy  daughter  in  con 
sideration  of  her  dower  and  her  maiden  fee,  which  we  will  pay 
to  thee,  and  to  her  two  kinswomen  likewise."  Then  he  said, 
"  Her  four  great-grandmothers,  and  her  four  great-grandsires 
are  yet  alive;  it  is  needful  that  I  take  counsel  of  them."  "Be 
it  so,"  they  answered ;  "we  will  go  to  meat."  As  they  rose 
up,  he  took  the  second  dart  that  was  beside  him,  and  cast  it 
after  them.  And  Meneu,  the  son  of  Gawedd,  caught  it,  and 
flung  it  back  at  him,  and  wounded  him  in  the  centre  of  the 
breast.  "A  cursed  ungentle  son-in-law,  truly  !"  said  he  ;  "the 
hard  iron  pains  me  like  the  bite  of  a  horse-leech.  Cursed  be 
the  hearth  whereon  it  was  heated,  and  the  smith  who  formed 
it !  So  sharp  is  it !  Henceforth,  whenever  I  go  up  hill,  I  shall 
have  a  scant  in  my  breath,  and  a  pain  in  my  chest,  and  I  shall 
often  loathe  my  food."  And  they  went  to  meat. 

And  the  third  day  they  returned  to  the  palace.  And  Yspa 
daden  Penkawr  said  to  them,  "  Shoot  not  at  me  again,  unless 
you  desire  death.  Where  are  my  attendants?  Lift  up  the 
forks  of  my  eyebrows,  which  have  fallen  over  my  eyeballs, 
that  I  may  see  the  fashion  of  my  son-in-law."  Then  they 
arose,  and,  as  they  did  so,  Yspadaden  Penkawr  took  the  third 
poisoned  dart  and  cast  it  at  them.  And  Kilwich  caught  it, 
and  threw  it  vigorously,  and  wounded  him  through  the  eye 
ball.  *'A  cursed  ungentle  son-in-law,  truly!  As  long  as  I  re 
main  alive,  my  eyesight  will  be  the  worse.  Whenever  I  go 
against  the  wind,  my  eyes  will  water;  and  peradventure  my 
head  will  burn,  and  I  shall  have  a  giddiness  every  new  moon. 
Like  the  bite  of  a  mad  dog  is  the  stroke  of  this  poisoned  iron. 


KILWICH    AND    OLWEN.  289 

Cursed  be  the  fire  in  which  it  was  forged!  "  And  they  went 
to  meat. 

And  the  next  day  they  came  again  to  the  palace,  and  they 
said,  "  Shoot  iK>t  at  us  any  more,  unless  thou  desirest  such  hurt 
and  harm  and  torture  as  thou  now  hast,  and  even  more." 
Said  Kilwich,  "Give  me  thy  daughter;  and  if  thou  wilt  not 
give  her,  thou  shalt  receive  thy  death  because  of  her." 
"Where  is  he  that  seeks  my  daughter?  Come  hither,  where 
I  may  see  thee."  And  they  placed  him  a  chair  face  to  face 
with  him. 

Said  Yspadaden  Penkawr,  "Is  it  thou  that  seekest  my 
daughter  ?  " 

"  It  is  I,"  answered  Kilwich. 

"  I  must  have  thy  pledge  that  thou  wilt  not  do  toward  me 
otherwise  than  is  just;  and  when  I  have  gotten  that  which  I 
shall  name,  my  daughter  thou  shalt  have." 

"  I  promise  thee  that,  willingly,"  said  Kilwich ;  "  name  what 
thou  wilt." 

"  I  will  do  so,"  said  he.  "  Seest  thou  yonder  red  tilled 
ground  ?  " 

"  I  see  it." 

"  When  first  I  met  the  mother  of  this  maiden,  nine  bushels 
of  flax  were  sown  therein,  and  none  has  yet  sprung  up,  white 
or  black.  I  require  to  have  the  flax  to  sow  in  the  new  land 
yonder,  that  when  it  grows  up  it  may  make  a  white  whimple 
for  my  daughter's  head  on  the  day  of  thy  wedding." 

"  It  will  be  easy  for  me  to  compass  this,  although  thou  may- 
est  think  it  will  not  be  easy." 

"  Though  thou  get  this,  there  is  yet  that  which  thou  wilt  not 
get,  —  the  harp  of  Teirtu,  to  play  to  us  that  night.  When  a 
man  desires  that  it  should  play,  it  does  so  of  itself;  and  when 
he  desires  that  it  should  cease,  it  ceases.  And  this  he  wrilt  not 
give  of  his  own  free  will,  and  thou  wilt  not  be  able  to  compel 
him." 

"  It  will  be  easy  for  me  to  compass  this,  although  thou  may- 
est  think  that  it  will  not  be  easy." 

"  Though  thou  get  this,  there  is  yet  that  which  thou  wilt  not 
get.  I  require  thee  to  get  me  for  my  huntsman  Mabon,  the  son 


290  THE    MABINOGEON. 

of  ModroD.  He  was  taken  from  his  mother  when  three  nights 
old,  and  it  is  not  known  where  he  now  is,  nor  whether  he  is 
living  or  dead." 

"  It  will  be  easy  for  me  to  compass  this,  although  thou  may- 
est  think  it  will  not  be  easy." 

"  Though  thou  get  this,  there  is  yet  that  which  thou  wilt  not 
get,  —  the  two  cubs  of  the  wolf  Gast  Rhymhi ;  no  leash  in  the 
world  will  hold  them,  but  a  leash  made  from  the  beard  of  Dil- 
lus  Varwawc,  the  robber.  And  the  leash  will  be  of  no  avail 
unless  it  be  plucked  from  his  beard  while  he  is  alive.  While  he 
lives,  he  will  not  suffer  this  to  be  done  to  him,  and  the  leash 
will  be  of  no  use  should  he  be  dead,  because  it  will  be  brittle." 

"It  will  be  easy  for  me  to  compass  this,  although  thou  may- 
est  think  it  will  not  be  easy." 

"  Though  thou  get  this,  there  is  yet  that  which  thou  wilt  not 
get, — the  sword  of  Gwernach  the  Giant;  of  his  own  free  will 
he  will  not  give  it,  and  thou  wilt  never  be  able  to  compel 
him." 

"  It  will  be  easy  for  me  to  compass  this,  although  thou  may- 
est  think  it  will  not  be  easy." 

"  Though  thou  get  this,  there  is  yet  that  which  thou  wilt  not 
get.  Difficulties  shalt  thou  meet  with,  and  nights  without 
sleep,  in  seeking  this,  and  if  thou  obtain  it  not,  neither  shalt 
thou  obtain  my  daughter." 

"Horses  shall  I  have,  and  chivalry;  and  my  lord  and  kins 
man,  Arthur,  will  obtain  for  me  all  these  things.  And  I  shall 
gain  thy  daughter,  and  thou  shalt  lose  thy  life." 

"Go  forward.  And  thou  shalt  not  be  chargeable  for  food  or 
raiment  for  my  daughter  while  thou  art  seeking  these  things ; 
and  when  thou  hast  compassed  all  these  marvels,  thou  shalt 
have  my  daughter  for  thy  wife." 


CHAPTER   XXX. 


KILWICH  AND  OLWEN,  CONTINUED. 

ALL  that  day  they  journeyed  until  the  evening,  and  then 
they  beheld  a  vast  castle,  which  was  the  largest  in  the 
world.  Arid  lo  !  a  black  man,  larger  than  three  of  the  men  of 
this  world,  came  out  from  the  castle.  And  they  spoke  unto 
him,  and  said,  "O  man,  whose  castle  is  that?"  "Stupid  are 
ye,  truly,  O  men !  There  is  no  one  in  the  world  that  does  not 
know  that  this  is  the  castle  of  Gwernach  the  Giant."  "  What 
treatment  is  there  for  guests  and  strangers  that  alight  in  that 
castle  ?  "  "  O  chieftain,  Heaven  protect  thee !  No  guest  ever 
returned  thence  alive,  and  no  one  may  enter  therein  unless  he 
brings  with  him  his  craft." 

Then  they  proceeded  towards  the  gate.  Said  Gurhyr  Gwal- 
stat,  "  Is  there  a  porter  !  "  "  There  is ;  wherefore  dost  thou 
call  ?  "  "  Open  the  gate."  "  I  will  not  open  it."  "  Wherefore 
wilt  thou  not?"  "The  knife  is  in  the  meat,  and  the  drink  is 
in  the  horn,  and  there  is  revelry  in  the  hall  of  Gwernach  the 
Giant ;  and  except  for  a  craftsman  who  brings  his  craft,  the 

'291 


292  THE    MABINOGEON. 

gate  will  not  be  opened  to-night."  "  Verily,  porter,"  then  said 
Kay,  "  my  craft  bring  I  with  me."  "  What  is  thy  craft  ? " 
"The  best  burnisher  of  swords  am  I  in  the  world."  "I  will 
go  and  tell  this  unto  Gwernach  the  Giant,  and  I  will  bring  thee 
an  answer." 

So  the  porter  went  in,  and  Gwernach  said  to  him,  "  Hast 
thou  news  from  the  gate  ?  "  "I  have.  There  is  a  party  at 
the  door  of  the  gate  who  desire  to  come  in."  "  Didst  thou 
inquire  of  them  if  they  possessed  any  art?"  "I  did  inquire," 
said  he,  "and  one  told  me  that  he  was  well  skilled  in  the  bur 
nishing  of  swords."  "We  have  need  of  him  then.  For  some 
time  have  I  sought  for  some  one  to  polish  my  sword,  and  could 
find  no  one.  Let  this  man  enter,  since  he  brings  with  him  his 
craft." 

The  porter  thereupon  returned  and  opened  the  gate.  And 
Kay  went  in  by  himself,  and  he  saluted  Gwernach  the  Giant. 
And  a  chair  was  placed  for  him  opposite  to  Gwernach.  And 
Gwernach  said  to  him,  "  O  man,  is  it  true  that  is  reported  of 
thee,  that  thou  knowest  how  to  burnish  swords?"  "I  know 
full  well  how  to  do  so,"  answered  Kay.  Then  was  the  sword 
of  Gwernach  brought  to  him.  And  Kay  took  a  blue  whet 
stone  from  under  his  arm,  and  asked  whether  he  would  have  it 
burnished  white  or  blue.  "  Do  with  it  as  it  seems  good  to  thee, 
or  as  thou  wouldst  if  it  were  thine  own."  Then  Kay  polished 
one  half  of  the  blade,  and  put  it  in  his  hand.  "Will  this 
please  thee  ? "  asked  he.  "  I  would  rather  than  all  that  is  in 
my  dominions  that  the  whole  of  it  were  like  this.  It  is  a  mar 
vel  to  me  that  such  a  man  as  thou  should  be  without  a  com 
panion."  "  O  noble  sir,  I  have  a  companion,  albeit  he  is  not 
skilled  in  this  art."  "  Who  may  he  be  ?  "  "  Let  the  porter  go 
forth,  and  I  will  tell  him  whereby  he  may  know  him.  The 
head  of  his  lance  will  leave  its  shaft,  and  draw  blood  from  the 
wind,  and  will  descend  upon  its  shaft  again."  Then  the  gate 
was  opened,  and  Bedwyr  entered.  And  Kay  said,  "  Bedwyr  is 
very  skilful,  though  he  knows  not  this  art." 

And  there  was  much  discourse  among  those  who  were  with 
out,  because  that  Kay  and  Bedwyr  had  gone  in.  And  a  young 
man  who  was  with  them,  the  only  son  of  the  herdsman,  got  in 


KILWICH    AND    OLWEN.  293 

also ;  and  he  contrived  to  admit  all  the  rest,  but  they  kept 
themselves  concealed. 

The  sword  was  now  polished,  and  Kay  gave  it  unto  the  hand 
of  Gwernach  the  Giant,  to  see  if  he  were  pleased  with  his 
work.  And  the  giant  said,  "  The  work  is  good  ;  I  am  content 
therewith."  Said  Kay,  "  It  is  thy  scabbard  that  hath  rusted 
thy  sword ;  give  it  to  me,  that  I  may  take  out  the  wooden 
sides  of  it,  and  put  in  new  ones."  And  he  took  the  scabbard 
from  him,  and  the  sword  in  the  other  hand.  And  he  came  and 
stood  over  against  the  giant,  as  if  he  would  have  put  the 
sword  into  the  scabbard ;  and  with  it  he  struck  at  the  head  of 
the  giant,  and  cut  off  his  head  at  one  blow.  Then  they  de 
spoiled  the  castle,  and  took  from  it  what  goods  and  jewels 
they  would.  And  they  returned  to  Arthur's  court,  bearing 
with  them  the  sword  of  Gwernach  the  Giant. 

And  when  they  told  Arthur  how  they  had  sped,  Arthur 
said,  "  It  is  a  good  beginning."  Then  they  took  counsel,  and 
said,  "  Which  of  these  marvels  will  it  be  best  for  us  to  seek 
next  ?  "  "  It  will  be  best,"  said  one,  "  to  seek  Mabon,  the  son 
of  Modron;  and  he  will  not  be  found  unless  we  first  find 
Eicloel,  the  son  of  Aer,  his  kinsman."  Then  Arthur  rose  up, 
and  the  warriors  of  the  island  of  Britain  with  him,  to  seek  for 
Eidoel ;  and  they  proceeded  until  they  came  to  the  castle  of 
Glivi,  where  Eidoel  was  imprisoned.  Glivi  stood  on  the  sum 
mit  of  his  castle,  and  he  said,  "Arthur,  what  requirest  thou  of 
me,  since  nothing  remains  to  me  in  this  fortress,  and  I  have 
neither  joy  nor  pleasure  in  it,  neither  wheat  nor  oats?  Seek 
not,  therefore,  to  do  me  harm."  Said  Arthur,  "Not  to  injure 
thee  came  I  hither,  but  to  seek  for  the  prisoner  that  is  with 
thee."  "I  will  give  thee  my  prisoner,  though  I  had  not 
thought  to  give  him  up  to  any  one,  and  therewith  shalt  thou 
have  my  support  and  my  aid." 

His  followers  said  unto  Arthur,  "Lord,  go  thou  home  ;  thou 
canst  not  proceed  with  thy  host  in  quest  of  such  small  adven 
tures  as  these."  Then  said  Arthur,  "  It  were  well  for  thee, 
Gurhyr  Gwalstat,  to  go  upon  this  quest,  for  thou  knowest  all 
languages,  and  art  familiar  with  those  of  the  birds  and  the 
beasts.  Thou,  Eidoel,  oughtest  likewise  to  go  with  thy  men 


294  THE    MABINOGEON. 

in  search  of  thy  cousin.  And  as  for  you,  Kay  and  Bedwyr,  I 
have  hope  of  whatever  adventure  ye  are  in  quest  of,  that  ye 
will  achieve  it.  Achieve  ye  this  adventure  for  me." 

They  went  forward  until  they  came  to  the  Ousel  of  Cilgwri. 
And  Gurhyr  adjured  her,  saying,  "Tell  me  if  thou  knowest 
aught  of  Mabon,  the  son  of  Modron,  who  was  taken  when 
three  nights  old  from  between  his  mother  and  the  wall?" 
-And  the  Ousel  answered,  "When  I  first  came  here,  there  was 
a  smith's  anvil  in  this  place,  and  I  was  then  a  young  bird ;  -and 
from  that  time  no  work  has  been  done  upon  it,  save  the  peck 
ing  of  my  beak  every  evening;  and  now  there  is  not  so  much 
as  the  size  of  a  nut  remaining  thereof;  yet  during  all  that 
time  I  have  never  heard  of  the  man  for  whom  you  inquire. 
Nevertheless,  I  will  do  that  which  it  is  fitting  that  I  should  for 
an  embassy  from  Arthur.  There  is  a  race  of  animals  who 
were  formed  before  me,  and  I  will  be  your  guide  to  them." 

So  they  proceeded  to  the  place  where  was  the  Stag  of  Red- 
ynvre.  "  Stag  of  Redynvre,  behold,  we  are  come  to  thee,  an 
embassy  from  Arthur,  for  we  have  not  heard  of  any  animal 
older  than  thou.  Say,  knowest  thou  aught  of  Mabon,  the  son 
of  Modron,  who  was  taken  from  his  mother  when  three  nights 
old  ?  "  The  Stag  said,  "  When  first  I  came  hither  there  was  a 
plain  all  around  me,  without  any  trees  save  one  oak  sapling, 
which  grew  up  to  be  an  oak  with  an  hundred  branches;  and 
that  oak  has  since  perished,  so  that  now  nothing  remains  of  it 
but  the  withered  stump  ;  and  from  that  day  to  this  I  have  been 
here,  yet  have  I  never  heard  of  the  man  for  whom  you  inquire. 
Nevertheless,  being  an  embassy  from  Arthur,  I  will  be  your 
guide  to  the  place  where  there  is  an  animal  which  was  formed 
before  I  was,  and  the  oldest  animal  in  the  world,  and  the  one 
that  has  travelled  most,  the  Eagle  of  Gwern  Abwy." 

Gurhyr  said,  "  Eagle  of  Gwern  Abwy,  we  have  come  to  thee, 
an  embassy  from  Arthur,  to  ask  thee  if  thou  knowest  aught  of 
Mabon,  the  son  of  Modron,  who  was  taken  from  his  mother 
when  he  was  three  nights  old?"  The  Eagle  said,  "I  have 
been  here  for  a  great  space  of  time,  and  when  I  first  came 
hither  there  was  a  rock  here  from  the  top  of  which  I  pecked  at 


KILWICH    AND    OLWEN.  295 

the  stars  every  evening ;  and  it  has  crumbled  away,  and  now 
it  is  not  so  much  as  a  span  high.  All  that  time  I  have  been 
here,  and  I  have  never  heard  of  the  man  for  whom  you  inquire, 
except  once  when  I  went  in  search  of  food  as  far  as  Llyn  Lly w. 
And  when  I  came  there  1  struck  my  talons  into  a  salmon, 
thinking  he  would  serve  me  as  food  for  a  long  time.  But  he 
drew  me  into  the  water,  and  I  was  scarcely  able  to  escape  from 
him.  After  that  I  made  peace  with  him.  And  I  drew  fifty 
fish-spears  out  of  his  back,  and  relieved  him.  Unless  he  know 
something  of  him  whom  you  seek  I  cannot  tell  who  may.  How 
ever,  I  will  guide  you  to  the  place  where  he  is." 

So  they  went  thither ;  and  the  Eagle  said,  "  Salmon  of  Llyn 
Llyw,  I  have  come  to  thee  with  an  embassy  from  Arthur,  to 
ask  thee  if  thou  knowest  aught  of  Mabon,  the  son  of  Modron, 
who  was  taken  away  at  three  nights  old  from  his  mother." 
"As  much  as  I  know  I  will  tell  thee.  With  every  tide  I  go 
along  the  river  upward,  until  I  come  near  to  the  walls  of  Glou 
cester,  and  there  have  I  found  such  wrong  as  I  never  found 
elsewhere ;  and  to  the  end  that  ye  may  give  credence  thereto, 
let  one  of  you  go  thither  upon  each  of  my  two  shoulders." 
So  Kay  and  Gurhyr  Gwalstat  went\upon  the  two  shoul 
ders  of  the  Salmon,  and  they  proceeded  until  they  came 
unto  the  wall  of  the  prison ;  and  they  heard  a  great  wailing 
and  lamenting  from  the  dungeon.  Said  Gurhyr,  "Who  is  it 
that  laments  in  this  house  of  stone  ? "  "Alas  !  it  is  Mabon, 
the  son  of  Modron,  who  is  here  imprisoned ;  and  no  imprison 
ment  was  ever  so  grievous  as  mine."  "  Hast  thou  hope  of 
being  released  for  gold  or  for  silver,  or  for  any  gifts  of  wealth, 
or  through  battle  and  fighting?"  "  By  fighting  will  whatever 
I  may  gain  be  obtained." 

Then  they  went  thence,  and  returned  to  Arthur,  and  they 
told  him  where  Mabon,  the  son  of  Modron,  was  imprisoned. 
And  Arthur  summoned  the  warriors  of  the  island,  and  they 
journeyed  as  far  as  Gloucester,  to  the  place  where  Mabon  was 
in  prison.  Kay  and  Bedwyr  went  upon  the  shoulders  of  the 
fish,  whilst  the  warriors  of  Arthur  attacked  the  castle.  And 
Kay  broke  through  the  wall  into  the  dungeon,  and  brought 


296  THE    MABINOGEON. 

away  the  prisoner  upon  his  back,  whilst  the  fight  was  going  on 
between  the  warriors.  And  Arthur  returned  home,  and  Ma- 
bon  wit!)  him  at  liberty. 

On  a  certain  day  as  Gurhyr  Gwalstat  was  walking  over  a 
mountain  he  heard  a  wailing  and  a  grievous  cry.  And  when 
he  heard  it  he  sprung  forward,  and  w^ent  towards  it.  And 
when  he  came  there  he  saw  a  fire  burning  among  the  turf,  and 
an  ant-hill  nearly  surrounded  with  the  fire.  And  he  drew  his 
sword,  and  smote  off  the  ant-hill  close  to  the  earth,  so  that  it 
escaped  being  burned  in  the  fire.  And  the  ants  said  to  him, 
"Receive  from  us  the  blessing  of  Heaven,  and  that  which  no 
man  can  give  we  will  give  thee."  Then  they  fetched  the  nine 
bushels  of  flaxseed  which  Yspadaden  Penkawr  had  required  of 
Kilwich,  and  they  brought  the  full  measure,  without  lacking 
any,  save  one  flaxseed,  and  that  the  lame  pismire  brought  in 
before  night. 

Then  said  Arthur,  "Which  of  the  marvels  will  it  be  best  for 
us  to  seek  next?"  "  It  will  be  best  to  seek  for  the  two  cubs  of 
the  wolf  Gast  Rhymhi." 

"Is  it  known,"  said  Arthur,  "where  she  is?"  "She  is  in 
Aber  Cleddyf,"  said  one.  Then  Arthur  w^ent  to  the  house  of 
Tringad,  in  Aber  Cleddyf,  and  he  inquired  of  him  whether  he 
had  heard  of  her  there.  "  She  has  often  slain  my  herds,  and 
she  is  there  below  in  a  cave  of  Aber  Cleddyf." 

Then  Arthur  went  in  his  ship  Prydwen  by  sea,  and  the  others 
went  by  land  to  hunt  her.  And  they  surrounded  her  and  her 
two  cubs,  and  took  them,  and  carried  them  away. 

As  Kay  and  Bedwyr  sat  on  a  beacon-cairn  on  the  summit  of 
Plinlimmon,  in  the  highest  wind  that  ever  was,  they  looked 
around  them  and  saw  smoke  afar  off.  Then  said  Kay,  "By 
the  hand  of  my  friend,  yonder  is  the  fire  of  a  robber."  Then 
they  hastened  towards  the  smoke,  and  they  came  so  near  it 
that  they  could  see  Dillus  Varwawc  scorching  a  wild  boar. 
"Behold,  yonder  is  the  greatest  robber  that  ever  fled  from  Ar 
thur,"  said  Bedwyr  to  Kay.  "Dost  thou  know  him?"  "I  do 
know  him,"  answered  Kay;  "he  is  Dillus  Varwawc,  and  no 
leash  in  the  world  will  be  able  to  hold  the  cubs  of  Gast  Rhymhi 
save  a  leash  made  from  the  beard  of  him  thou  seest  yonder. 


KILWICH   AND    OLWEN.  297 

And  even  that  will  be  useless  unless  his  beard  be  plucked  out 
alive,  with  wooden  tweezers;  for  if  dead  it  will  be  brittle." 
"  What  thinkest  thou  that  we  should  do  concerning  this  ? " 
said  Bedwyr.  %"Let  us  suffer  him  to  eat  as  much  as  he  will  of 
the  meat,  and  after  that  he  will  fall  asleep."  And  during  that 
time  they  employed  themselves  in  making  the  wooden  tweezers. 
And  when  Kay  knew  certainly  that  he  was  asleep,  he  made  a 
pit  under  his  feet,  and  he  struck  him  a  violent  blow,  and 
squeezed  him  into  the  pit.  And  there  they  twitched  out  his 
beard  completely  with  the  wooden  tweezers,  and  after  that  they 
slew  him  altogether.  And  from  thence  they  went,  and  took 
the  leash  made  of  Dillus  Yarwawc's  beard,  and  they  gave  it 
into  Arthur's  hand. 

Thus  they  got  all  the  marvels  that  Yspadaden  Penkawr  had 
required  of  Kilwich ;  and  they  set  forward,  and  took  the  mar 
vels  to  his  court.  And  Kilwich  said  to  Yspadaden  Penkawr, 
"Is  thy  daughter  mine  now?"  "  She  is  thine,"  said  he,  "but 
therefore  needest  thou  not  thank  me,  but  Arthur,  who  hath 
accomplished  this  for  thee."  Then  Goreu,  the  son  of  Custen- 
nin,  the  herdsman,  whose  brothers  Yspadaden  Penkawr  had 
slain,  seized  him  by  the  hair  of  his  head,  and  dragged  him  after 
him  to  the  keep,  and  cut  off  his  head,  and  placed  it  on  a  stake 
in  the  citadel.  Then  they  took  possession  of  his  castle,  and  of 
his  treasures.  And  that  night  Olwen  became  Kilwich's  bride, 
and  she  continued  to  be  his  wife  as  long  as  she  lived. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 


PEREDUR,   THE  SON  OF  EVRAWC. 

ARTHUR  was  in  Caerleon  upon  the  Usk ;  and  he  went  to 
hunt,  and  Peredur*  went  with  him.  And  Peredur  let 
loose  his  dog  upon  a  hart,  and  the  dog  killed  the  hart  in  a 
desert  place.  And  a  short  space  from  him  he  saw  signs  of  a 
dwelling,  and  towards  the  dwelling  he  went,  and  he  beheld  a 
hall,  and  at  the  door  of  the  hall  he  found  bold  swarthy  youths 
playing  at  chess.  And  when  he  entered  he  beheld  three  maid 
ens  sitting  on  a  bench,  and  they  were  all  clothed  alike,  as  be 
came  persons  of  high  rank.  And  lie  came  and  sat  by  them  on 
the  bench ;  and  one  of  the  maidens  looked  steadfastly  at  Pere 
dur  and  wept.  And  Peredur  asked  her  wherefore  she  was 
weeping.  "Through  grief  that  I  should  see  so  fair  a  youth  as 
thou  art  slain."  "  Who  will  slay  me  ?  "  inquired  Peredur.  "  If 
thou  art  so  daring  as  to  remain  here  to-night  I  will  tell  thee." 
"  How  great  soever  my  danger  may  be  from  remaining  here  I 

*  Peredur,  the  son  of  Evrawc,  is  the  Welsh  for  Perceval,  a  part  of  whose  story 
in  the  preceding  pages  is  taken  from  the  Mabinogeon. 
298 


PEREDUR,    THE    SON    OF    EVRAWC.  299 

will  listen  unto  thee."  "  This  palace  is  owned  by  him  who  is  my 
father,"  said  the  maiden,  "  and  he  slays  every  one  who  comes 
hither  without  his  leave."  "  What  sort  of  a  man  is  thy  father 
that  he  is  able  to  slay  every  one  thus  ? "  "A  man  who  does 
violence  and  wrong  unto  hisvneighbors,  and  who  renders  justice 
unto  none."  And  hereupon  he  saw  the  youths  arise  and  clear 
the  chessmen  from  the  board.  And  he  heard  a  great  tumult ; 
and  after  the  tumult  there  came  in  a  huge  black  one-eyed  man, 
and  the  maidens  arose  to  meet  him.  And  they  disarrayed  him, 
and  he  went  and  sat  down  ;  and  after  he  had  rested  and  pon 
dered  awhile,  he  looked  at  Peredur,  and  asked  who  the  knight 
was.  "  Lord,"  said  one  of  the  maidens,  "  he  is  the  fairest  and 
gentlest  youth  that  ever  thou  didst  see.  And  for  the  sake  of 
Heaven,  and  thine  own  dignity,  have  patience  with  him." 
"  For  thy  sake  I  will  have  patience,  and  I  will  grant  him  his 
life  this  night."  Then  Peredur  came  towards  them  to  the  fire, 
and  partook  of  food  and  liquor,  and  entered  into  discourse 
with  the  ladies.  And  being  elated  with  the  liquor,  he  said  to 
the  black  man,  "It  is  a  marvel  to  me,  so  mighty  as  thou  sayest 
thou  art,  who  could  have  put  out  thine  eye  ?  "  "  It  is  one  of 
my  habits,"  said  the  black  man,  "  that  whosoever  puts  to  me 
the  question  which  thou  hast  asked  shall  not  escape  with  his 
life,  either  as  a  free  gift,  or  for  a  price."  "  Lord,"  said  the 
maiden,  "  whatsoever  he  may  say  to  thee  in  jest,  and  through 
the  excitement  of  liquor,  make  good  that  which  thou  saidest 
and  didst  promise  me  just  now."  "I  will  do  so,  gladly,  for 
thy  sake,"  said  he.  "  Willingly  will  I  grant  him  his  life  this 
night."  And  that  night  thus  they  "remained. 

And  the  next  day  the  black  man  got  up  and  put  on  his 
armor,  and  said  to  Peredur,  "Arise,  man,  and  suffer  death." 
And  Peredur  said  unto  him,  "Do  one  of  two  things,  black 
man ;  if  thou  wilt  fight  with  me,  either  throw  off  thy  own 
armor,  or  give  arms  to  me,  that  I  may  encounter  thee."  "  Ha  ! 
man,"  said  he,  "couldst  thou  fight  if  thou  hadst  arms?  Take 
then  what  arms  thou  dost  choose."  And  thereupon  the  maiden 
came  to  Peredur  with  such  arms  as  pleased  him  ;  and  he  fought 
with  the  black  man  and  forced  him  to  crave  his  mercy.  "  Black 
man,  thou  shalt  have  mercy,  provided  thou  tell  me  who  thou 


300  THE    MABINOGEON. 

art,  and  who  put  out  thine  eye."  "Lord,  I  will  tell  thee.  I 
lost  it  in  fighting  with  the  Black  Serpent  of  the  Cam.  There 
is  a  mound  which  is  called  the  Mound  of  Mourning ;  and  on 
the  mound  there  is  a  earn,  and  in  the  earn  there  is  a  serpent, 
and  on  the  tail  of  the  serpent  there  is  a  stone,  and  the  virtues 
of  the  stone  are  such  that  whosoever  should  hold  it  in  one 
hand,  in  the  other  he  will  have  as  much  gold  as  he  may  desire. 
And  in  fighting  with  this  serpent  was  it  that  I  lost  my  eye. 
And  the  Black  Oppressor  am  I  called.  And  for  this  reason  I 
am  called  the  Black  Oppressor,  that  there  is  not  a  single  man 
around  me  whom  I  have  not  oppressed,  and  justice  have  I  done 
unto  none."  "  Tell  me,"  said  Peredur,  "  how  far  is  it  hence  ?  " 
"  The  same  day  that  thou  settest  forth  thou  wilt  come  to  the 
Palace  of  the  Sons  of  the  King  of  the  Tortures."  "Where 
fore  are  they  called  thus?"  The  Addanc*  of  the  Lake  slays 
them  once  every  day.  When  thou  goest  thence  thou  wilt  come 
to  the  Court  of  the  Countess  of  Achievements."  "What 
achievements  are  these  ?"  said  Peredur.  "  Three  hundred  men 
are  there  in  her  household,  and  unto  every  stranger  that  comes 
to  the  Court  the  achievements  of  her  household  are  related. 
And  this  is  the  manner  of  it,  —  the  three  hundred  men  of  the 
household  sit  next  unto  the  Lady;  and  that  not  through  disre 
spect  unto  the  guests,  but  that  they  may  relate  the  achievements 
of  the  household.  And  the  day  that  thou  goest  there  thou 
wilt  reach  the  Mound  of  Mourning,  and  round  about  the  mound 
there  are  the  owners  of  three  hundred  tents  guarding  the  ser 
pent."  "  Since  thou  hast  indeed  been  an  oppressor  so  long," 
said  Peredur,  "  I  will  cause*  that  thou  continue  so  no  longer." 
So  he  slew  him. 

Then  the  maiden  spoke,  and  began  to  converse  with  him.  "  If 
thou  wast  poor  when  thou  earnest  here  henceforth  thou  wilt  be 
rich  through  the  treasure  of  the  black  man  whom  thou  hast  slain. 
Thou  seest  the  many  lovely  maidens  that  there  are  in  this  court, 
thou  shalt  have  her  whom  thou  likest  best  for  the  lady  of  thy 
love."  "  Lady,  I  came  not  hither  from  my  country  to  woo; 
but  match  yourselves  as  it  liketh  you  with  the  comely  youths 
I  see  here  ;  and  none  of  your  goods  do  I  desire,  for  I  need  them 
*  The  Addanc  was  a  mighty  aquatic  monster. 


PEREDUR,  THE  SON  OF  EVRAWC.          301 

not."  Then  Peredur  rode  forward,  and  he  came  to  the  Palace 
of  the  Sons  of  the  King  of  the  Tortures  ;  and  when  he  entered 
the  palace  he  saw  none  but  women ;  and  they  rose  up  and  were 
joyful  at  liis  coming ;  and  as  they  began  to  discourse  with  him 
he  beheld  a  charger  arrive,  with  a  saddle  upon  it,  and  a  corpse 
in  the  saddle.  And  one  of  the  women  arose,  and  took  the 
corpse  from  the  saddle  and  anointed  it  in  a  vessel  of  warm 
water,  which  was  below  the  door,  and  placed  precious  balsam 
upon  it;  and  the  man  rose  up  alive,  and  came  to  the  place 
where  Peredur  was,  and  greeted  him,  and  was  joyful  to  see 
him.  And  two  other  men  came  in  upon  their  saddles,  and  the 
maiden  treated  these  two  in  the  same  manner  as  she  had  done 
the  first.  Then  Peredur  asked  the  chieftain  wherefore  it  was 
thus.  And  they  told  him  there  was  an  Addanc  in  a  cave, 
which  slew  them  once  every  day.  And  thus  they  remained  one 
night. 

And  next  morning  the  youths  arose  to  sally  forth,  and  Pere 
dur  besought  them,  for  the  sake  of  the  ladies  of  their  love,  to 
permit  him  to  go  with  them  ;  but  they  refused  him,  saying,  "  If 
thou  shouldst  be  slain  thou  hast  none  to  bring  thee  back  to  life 
again."  And  they  rode  forward  and  Peredur  followed  after 
them ;  and  after  they  had  disappeared  out  of  his  sight  he  came 
to  a  mound,  whereon  sat  the  fairest  lady  he  had  ever  beheld. 
"  I  know  thy  quest,"  said  she ;  "  thou  art  going  to  encounter 
the  Addanc,  and  he  will  slay  thee,  and  that  not  by  courage  but 
by  craft.  He  has  a  cave,  and  at  the  entrance  of  the  cave  there 
is  a  stone  pillar,  and  he  sees  every  one  that  enters,  and  none 
see  him  ;  and  from  behind  the  pillar  he  slays  every  one  with  a 
poisonous  dart.  And  if  thou  wouldst  pledge  me  thy  faith,  to  love 
me  above  all  women,  I  would  give  thee  a  stone,  by  which  thou 
shouldst  see  him  when  thou  goest  in,  and  he  should  not  see 
thee."  "I  will,  by  my  faith,"  said  Peredur,  "for  when  first  I 
beheld  thee  I  loved  thee ;  and  where  shall  I  seek  thee  ? " 
"  When  thou  seekest  me  seek  towards  India."  And  the  maiden 
vanished  after  placing  the  stone  in  Peredur's  hand. 

And  he  came  towards  a  valley,  through  which  ran  a  river ; 
and  the  borders  of  the  valley  were  wooded,  and  on  each  side 
of  the  river  were  level  meadows.  And  on  one  side  of  the  river 


302  THE    MABINOGEON. 

he  saw  a  flock  of  white  sheep,  and  on  the  other  side  a  flock  of 
black  sheep.  And  whenever  one  of  the  white  sheep  bleated 
one  of  the  black  sheep  would  cross  over  and  become  white ; 
and  when  one  of  the  black  sheep  bleated  one  of  the  white 
sheep  would  cross  over  and  become  black.  And  he  saw  a  tall 
tree  by  the  side  of  the  river,  one-half  of  which  was  in  flames 
from  the  root  to  the  top,  and  the  other  half  was  green  and  in 
full  leaf.  And  nigh  thereto  he  saw  a  youth  sitting  upon  a 
mound,  and  two  greyhounds,  white-breasted  and  spotted,  in 
leashes,  lying  by  his  side.  And  certain  was  he  that  he  had 
never  seen  a  youth  of  so  royal  a  bearing  as  he.  And  in  the 
wood  opposite  he  heard  hounds  raising  a  herd  of  deer.  And 
Peredur  saluted  the  youth,  and  the  youth  greeted  him  in 
return.  And  there  were  three  roads  leading  from  the  mound  ; 
two  of  them  were  wide  roads  and  the  third  was  more  narrow. 
And  Peredur  inquired  where  the  three  roads  went.  "  One  of 
them  goes  to  my  palace,"  said  the  youth.  "  And  one  of  two 
things  I  counsel  thee  to  do,  either  to  proceed  to  my  palace, 
which  is  before  thee,  and  where  thou  wilt  find  my  wife,  or  else 
to  remain  here  to  see  the  hounds  chasing  the  roused  deer  from 
the  wood  to  the  plain.  And  thou  shalt  see  the  best  greyhounds 
thou  didst  ever  behold,  and  the  boldest  in  the  chase,  kill  them 
by  the  water  beside  us ;  and  when  it  is  time  to  go  to  meat  my 
page  will  come  with  my  horse  to  meet  me,  and  thou  shalt  rest 
in  my  palace  to-night."  "  Heaven  reward  thee ;  but  I  cannot 
tarry,  and  onward  must  I  go."  "The  other  road  leads  to  the 
town,  which  is  near  here,  wherein  food  and  liquor  may  be 
bought ;  and  the  road  which  is  narrower  than  the  other  goes 
towards  the  cave  of  the  Addanc."  "With  thy  permission, 
young  man,  I  will  go  that  way." 

And  Peredur  went  towards  the  cave.  And  he  took  the 
stone  in  his  left  hand,  and  his  lance  in  his  right.  And  as  he 
went  in  he  perceived  the  Addanc,  and  he  pierced  him  through 
with  his  lance,  and  cut  off  his  head.  And  as  he  came  forth 
from  the  cave,  behold  the  three  companions  were  at  the  en 
trance  ;  and  they  saluted  Peredur,  and  told  him  that  there  was 
a  prediction  that  he  should  slay  the  monster. 

And  Peredur  gave  the  head  to  the  young  man,  and  they 


PEKEDUR,    THE    SON    OF    EVRAWC.  303 

offered  him  in  marriage  whichever  of  the  three  sisters  he 
might  choose,  and  half  their  kingdom  with  her.  "  I  came  not 
hither  to  woo,"  said  Peredur,  "but  if  perad venture  I  took  a 
wife,  I  should  pi;efer  your  sister  to  all  others."  And  Peredur 
rode  forward,  and  he  heatel  a  noise  behind  him.  And  he 
looked  back,  and  saw  a  man  upon  a  red  horse,  and  red  armor 
upon  him  ;  and  the  man  rode  up  by  his  side,  and  wished  him 
the  favor  of  Heaven  and  of  man.  And  Peredur  greeted  the 
youth  kindly.  "  Lord,  I  come  to  make  a  request  unto  thee." 
"  What  wouldst  thou?  "  "  That  thou  shouldst  take  me  as  thy 
attendant."  "  Who  should  I  take  as  my  attendant  if  I  did 
so?"  "I  will  not  conceal  from  thee  what  kindred  I  am  of. 
Etlym  Gleddyv  Coch  am  I  called,  an  Earl  from  the  East 
Country."  "I  marvel  that  thou  shouldst  offer  to  become 
attendant  to  a  man  whose  possessions  are  no  greater  than  thine 
own ;  for  I  have  but  an  earldom  like  thyself.  But  now  thou 
desirest  to  be  my  attendant,  I  will  take  thee  joyfully." 

And  they  went  forward  to  the  Court  of  the  Countess,  an*d 
all  they  of  the  Court  were  glad  at  their  coming;  and  they 
were  told  it  was  not  through  disrespect  they  were  placed  below 
the  household,  but  that  such  was  the  usage  of  the  Court.  For 
whoever  should  overthrow  the  three  hundred  men  of  her 
household  would  sit  next  the  Countess,  and  she  would  love 
him  above  all  other  men.  And  Peredur,  having  overthrown 
the  three  hundred  of  her  household,  sat  down  beside  her,  and 
the  Countess  said,  "  I  thank  Heaven  that  I  have  a  youth  so 
fair  and  so  radiant  as  thou,  since  I  have  not  obtained  the  man 
whom  best  I  love."  "  Whom  is  he  whom  best  thou  lovest  ? 
By  my  faith,  Etlym  Gleddyv  Coch  is  the  man  whom  I  love 
best,  and  I  have  never  seen  him."  "  Of  a  truth,  Etlym  is  my 
companion  ;  and  behold  here  he  is,  and  for  his  sake  did  I  come 
to  joust  with  thy  household.  And  he  would  have  done  so 
better  than  I  had  it  pleased  him."  "  Heaven  reward  thee,  fair 
youth,  and  I  will  take  the  man  whom  I  love  above  all  others." 
And  the  Countess  became  Etlym's  bride  from  that  moment. 

And  the  next  day  Peredur  set  forth  toward  the  Mound  of 
Mourning.  "  By  thy  hand,  lord,  but  I  will  go  with  thee,"  said 
Etlym.  Then  they  went  forward  till  they  came  in  sight  of 


304  THE    MABINOGEON. 

the  mound  and  the  forts.  "  Go  unto  yonder  men,"  said  Per- 
edur  to  Etlym,  "and  desire  them  to  come  and  do  me  homage." 
So  Etlym  went  unto  them,  and  said  unto  them  thus :  "  Come 
and  do  homage  to  my  lord."  "  Who  is  thy  lord  ?"  said  they. 
"  Peredur,  with  the  long  lance,  is  my  lord,"  said  Etlym. 
"  Were  it  permitted  to  slay  a  messenger,  thou  shouldst  not  go 
back  to  thy  lord  alive,  for  making  unto  kings  and  earls  and 
barons  so  arrogant  a  demand  as  to  go  and  do  him  homage." 
On  this  Peredur  desired  him  to  go  back  to  them,  and  to  give 
them  their  choice,  either  to  do  him  homage  or  to  do  battle 
with  him.  And  they  chose  rather  to  do  battle.  And  that  day 
Peredur  overthrew  the  owners  of  a  hundred  tents.  And  the 
next  day  he  overthrew  the  owners  of  a  hundred  more ;  and 
the  third  day  the  remaining  third  took  counsel  to  do  homage 
to  Peredur.  And  Peredur  inquired  of  them  wherefore  they 
were  there.  And  they  told  him  they  were  guarding  the  ser 
pent  until  he  should  die.  "  For  then  should  we  fight  for  the 
stone  among  ourselves,  and  whoever  should  be  conqueror 
among  us  would  have  the  stone."  "  Wait  here,"  said  Peredur, 
"  and  I  will  go  to  encounter  the  serpent."  "  No,  no,  lord," 
said  they ;  "  we  will  go  all  together  to  encounter  the  serpent." 
"  Verily,"  said  Peredur,  "  that  will  I  not  permit ;  for  if  the 
serpent  be  slain,  I  shall  derive  no  more  fame  therefrom  than 
one  of  you."  Then  he  went  to  the  place  where  the  serpent 
was,  and  slew  it,  and  came  back  to  them,  and  said,  "  Reckon 
up  what  you  have  spent  since  you  have  been  here,  and  I  will 
repay  you  to  the  full."  And  he  paid  to  each  what  he  said  was 
his  claim.  And  he  required  of  them  only  that  they  should 
acknowledge  themselves  his  vassals.  And  he  said  to  Etlym, 
"  Go  back  unto  her  whom  thou  lovest  best,  and  I  will  go  for 
wards,  and  I  will  reward  thee  for  having  been  my  attendant." 
And  he  gave  Etlym  the  stone.  "Heaven  repay  thee  and  pros 
per  thee,"  said  Etlym. 

And  Peredur  rode  thence,  and  he  came  to  the  fairest  valley 
he  had  ever  seen,  through  which  ran  a  river;  and  there  he 
beheld  many  tents  of  various  colors.  And  he  marvelled  still 
more  at  the  number  of  windmills  and  of  water-mills  that  he 
saw.  And  there  rode  up  with  him  a  tall,  auburn-haired  man, 


PEREDUR,  THE    SON    OF    EVRAWC.  305 

in  a  workman's  garb,  and  Peredur  inquired  of  him  who  he 
was.  "  I  am  the  chief  miller,"  said  he,  "  of  all  the  mills  yon 
der."  "  Wilt  thou  give  me  lodging  ?  "  said  Peredur.  "  I  will, 
gladly,"  he  answered.  And  Peredur  came  to  the  miller's 
house,  and  the  miller  had  affair  and  pleasant  dwelling.  And 
Peredur  asked  money  as  a  loan  from  the  miller,  that  he  might 
buy  meat  and  liquor  for  himself,  and  for  the  household,  and  he 
promised  him  that  he  would  pay  him  ere  he  went  thence. 
And  he  inquired  of  the  miller  wherefore  such  a  multitude 
were  there  assembled.  Said  the  miller  to  Peredur,  "  One 
thing  is  certain ;  either  thou  art  a  man  from  afar,  or  thou  art 
beside  thyself.  The  Empress  of  Cristonobyl  the  Great  is 
here ;  and  she  will  have  no  one  but  the  man  who  is  most  val 
iant  ;  for  riches  she  does  not  require.  And  it  was  impossible 
to  bring  food  for  so  many  thousands  as  are  here,  therefore 
were  all  these  mills  constructed."  And  that  night  they  took 
their  rest. 

And  the  next  day  Peredur  arose,  and  he  equipped  himself 
and  his  horse  for  the  tournament.  And  among  other  tents  he 
beheld  one  which  was  the  fairest  he  had  ever  seen.  And  saw 
a  beauteous  maiden  leaning  her  head  out  of  a  window  of  a 
tent,  and  he  had  never  seen  a  maiden  more  lovely  than  she. 
And  upon  her  was  a  garment  of  satin.  And  he  gazed  fixedly 
on  the  maiden  and  began  to  love  her  greatly.  And  he  remained 
there,  gazing  upon  the  maiden  from  morning  until  midday, 
and  from  midday  until  evening ;  and  then  the  tournament  was 
ended  ;  and  he  went  to  his  lodging  and  drew  off  his  armor. 
Then  he  asked  money  of  the  miller  as  a  loan,  and  the  miller's 
wife  was  wroth  with  Peredur  ;  nevertheless  the  miller  lent  him 
the  money.  And  the  next  day  he  did  in  like  manner  as  he  had 
done  the  day  before.  And  at  night  he  came  to  his  lodging,  and 
took  money  as  a  loan  from  the  miller.  And  the  third  day,  as 
he  was  in  the  same  place,  gazing  upon  the  maiden,  he  felt  a 
hard  blow  between  the  neck  and  the  shoulder  from  the  edge  of 
an  axe.  And  when  he  looked  behind  he  saw  that  it  was  the 
miller ;  and  the  miller  said  unto  him,  "  Do  one  of  two  things  ; 
either  turn  thy  head  from  hence  or  go  to  the  tournament." 
And  Peredur  smiled  on  the  miller,  and  went  to  the  tourna- 


306  THE    MABINOGEON . 

ment;  and  all  that  encountered  him  that  day  he  overthrew. 
And  as  many  as  he  vanquished  he  sent  as  a  gift  to  the  Em 
press,  and  their  horses  and  arms  he  sent  as  a  gift  to  the  wife 
of  the  miller,  in  payment  of  the  borrowed  money.  And  the 
Empress  sent  to  the  Knight  of  the  Mill,  to  ask  him  to  come 
and  visit  her.  And  Peredur  went  not  for  the  first  nor  for  the 
second  message.  And  the  third  time  she  sent  one  hundred 
knights  to  bring  him  against  his  will,  and  they  went  to  him, 
and  told  him  their  mission  from  the  Empress.  And  Peredur 
fought  well  with  them,  and  caused  them  to  be  bound  like  stags, 
and  thrown  into  the  mill  dyke.  And  the  Empress  sought  ad 
vice  of  a  wise  man.  "  With  thy  permission,  I  will  go  to  him 
myself."  So  he  came  to  Peredur  and  besought  him,  for  the  sake 
of  the  lady  of  his  love,  to  come  and  visit  the  Empress.  And 
they  went  together  with  the  miller.  And  Peredur  went  and 
sat  down  in  the  outer  chamber  of  the  tent,  and  she  came  and 
placed  herself  at  his  side.  And  there  was  but  little  discourse 
between  them.  And  Peredur  took  his  leave  and  went  to  his 
lodging. 

And  the  next  day  he  came  to  visit  her,  and  when  he  came 
into  the  tent  there  was  no  one  chamber  less  decorated  than  the 
others.  And  they  knew  not  where  he  would  sit.  And  Pere 
dur  went  and  sat  beside  the  Empress,  and  discoursed  with  her 
courteously.  And  while  they  were  there  they  beheld  a  black 
man  enter  with  a  goblet  full  of  wine  in  his  hand.  And  he 
dropped  upon  his  knee  before  the  Empress,  and  besought  her 
to  give  it  to  no  one  who  would  not  fight  him  for  it.  And  she 
looked  upon  Peredur.  "Lady,"  said  he,  "  bestow  upon  me  the 
goblet."  And  Peredur  drank  the  wine,  and  gave  the  goblet  to 
the  miller's  wife.  And  while  they  were  thus,  behold  there  en 
tered  a  black  man,  of  larger  stature  than  the  other,  with  a  wild 
beast's  claw  in  his  hand,  wrought  into  the  form  of  a  goblet, 
and  filled  with  wine.  And  he  presented  it  to  the  Empress, 
and  besought  her  to  give  it  to  no  one  but  the  man  who  would 
fight  with  him.  "Lady,"  said  Peredur,  "bestow  it  upon  me." 
And  she  gave  it  to  him.  And  Peredur  drank  the  wine,  and 
sent  the  goblet  to  the  wife  of  the  miller.  And  when  they  were 
thus,  behold  a  rough-looking  crisp-haired  man,  taller  than  either 


PEREDUR,  THE    SON    OF    EVRAWC.  307 

of  the  others,  came  in  with  a  bowl  in  his  hands  full  of  wine ; 
and  he  bent  upon  his  knee,  and  gave  it  into  the  hands  of  the 
Empress,  and  he  besought  her  to  give  it  to  none  but  him  who 
would  fight  with*  him  for  it ;  and  she  gave  it  to  Peredur,  and 
he  sent  it  to  the  miller's  wife."  And  that  night  Peredur  returned 
to  his  lodging ;  and  the  next  day  he  accoutred  himself  and  his 
horse,  and  went  to  the  meadow,  and  slew  the  three  men.  Then 
Peredur  proceeded  to  the  tent,  and  the  Empress  said  to  him, 
"  Goodly  Peredur,  remember  the  faith  thou  didst  pledge  me 
when  I  gave  thee  the  stone,  and  thou  didst  kill  the  Addanc." 
"  Lady,"  answered  he,  "  thou  sayest  truth,  I  do  remember  it." 
For  she  was  the  maiden  who  had  been  sitting  on  the  mound 
when  Peredur  had  gone  in  search  of  the  Addanc. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

TALIESIN. 

WYDDNO  GARANHIR  was  sovereign  of  Gwaelod,  a 
VJT  territory  bordering  on  the  sea.  And  he  possessed  a  weir 
npon  the  strand  between  Dyvi  and  Aberystwyth,  near  to  his 
own  castle,  and  the  value  of  an  hundred  pounds  was  taken  in 
that  weir  every  May  eve.  And  Gwyddno  had  an  only  son 
named  Elphin,  the  most  helpless  of  youths,  and  the  most  needy. 
And  it  grieved  his  father  sore,  for  he  thought  he  was  born  in 
an  evil  hour.  By  the  advice  of  his  council  his  father  had 
granted  him  the  drawing  of  the  weir  that  year,  to  see  if  good 
luck  would  ever  befall  him,  and  to  give  him  something  where 
with  to  begin  the  world.  And  this  was  on  the  twenty-ninth  of 
April. 

The  next  day,  when  Elphin  went  to  look,  there  was  nothing 
in  the  weir  but  a  leather  bag  upon  a  pole  of  the  weir.  Then 
said  the  weir-ward  unto  Elphin,  "All  thy  ill-luck  aforetime  was 
nothing  to  this ;  and  now  thou  hast  destroyed  the  virtues  of 
the  weir,  which  always  yielded  the  value  of  an  hundred  pounds 
308 


TALIESIN.  309 

every  May  eve  ;  and  to-night  there  is  nothing  but  this  leathern 
skin  in  it."  "  How  now,"  said  Elphin,  "  there  may  be  therein 
the  value  of  a  hundred  pounds."  Well !  they  took  up  the 
leathern  bag,  and  he  who  opened  it  saw  the  forehead  of  an  in 
fant,  the  fairest  that  was  ever  seen;  and  he  said,  "Behold  a 
radiant  brow  !  "  (in  the  Welsh  language,  taliesin.)  "  Taliesin 
be  he  called,"  said  Elphin.  And  he  lifted  the  bag  in  his  arms, 
and,  lamenting  his  bad  luck,  placed  the  boy  sorrowfully  behind 
him.  And  he  made  his  horse  amble  gently,  that  before  had 
been  trotting,  and  he  carried  him  as  softly  as  if  he  had  been 
sitting  in  the  easiest  chair  in  the  world.  And  presently  the 
boy  made  a  Consolation  and  praise  to  Elphin ;  and  the  Conso 
lation  was  as  you  may  here  see :  — 

"  Fair  Elphin,  cease  to  lament ! 
Never  in  Gwyddno's  weir 
Was  there  such  good  luck  as  this  night. 
Being  sad  will  not  avail ; 
Better  to  trust  in  God  than  to  forebode  ill ; 
Weak  and  small  as  I  am, 
On  the  foaming  beach  of  the  ocean, 
In  the  day  of  trouble  I  shall  be 
Of  more  service  to  thee  than  three  hundred  salmon." 

This  was  the  first  poem  that  Taliesin  ever  sung,  being  to 
console  Elphin  in  his  grief  for  that  the  produce  of  the  wen- 
was  lost,  and,  what  was  worse,  that  all  the  world  would  con 
sider  that  it  was  through  his  fault  and  ill-luck.  Then  Elphin 
asked  him  what  he  was,  whether  man  or  spirit.  And  he  sung 
thus : — 

"  I  have  been  formed  a  comely  person ; 

Although  I  am  but  little,  I  am  highly  gifted ; 

Into  a  dark  leathern  bag  I  was  thrown, 

And  on  a  boundless  sea  I  was  set  adrift. 

From  seas  and  from  mountains 

God  brings  wealth  to  the  fortunate  man." 

Then  came  Elphin  to  the  house  of  Gwyddno,  his  father,  and 
Taliesin  with  him.  Gwyddno  asked  him  if  he  had  had  a  good 
haul  at  the  weir,  and  he  told  him  that  he  had  got  that  which 
was  better  than  fish.  "  What  was  that?"  said  Gwyddno.  "A 
bard,"  said  Elphin.  Then  said  Gwyddno,  "Alas!  what  will  he 


310  THE    MABINOGEOX. 

profit  thee?"  And  Taliesin  himself  replied  and  said,  "He  will 
profit  him  more  than  the  weir  ever  profited  thee."  Asked 
Gwyddno,  "Art  thou  able  to  speak,  and  thou  so  little?"  And 
Taliesin  answered  him,  "I  am  better  able  to  speak  than  thou 
to  question  me."  "Let  me  hear  what  thou  canst  say,"  quoth 
Gwyddno.  Then  Taliesin  sang:  — 

"  Three  times  have  I  been  born,  I  know  by  meditation ; 
All  the  sciences  of  the  world  are  collected  in  my  breast, 
For  I  know  what  has  been,  and  what  hereafter  will  occur." 

Elphin  gave  his  haul  to  his  wife,  and  she  nursed  him  tenderly 
and  lovingly.  Thenceforward  Elphin  increased  in  riches  more 
and  more,  day  by  day,  and  in  love  and  favor  with  the  king ; 
and  there  abode  Taliesin  until  he  was  thirteen  years  old,  when 
Elphin,  son  of  Gwyddno,  went  by  a  Christmas  invitation  to 
his  uncle,  Maelgan  Gwynedd,  who  held  open  court  at  Christ 
mas-tide  in  the  castle  of  Dyganwy,  for  all  the  number  of  lords 
of  both  degrees,  both  spiritual  and  temporal,  with  a  vast  and 
thronged  host  of  knights  and  squires.  And  one  arose  and  said, 
"Is  there  in  the  whole  world  a  king  so  great  as  Maelgan,  or 
one  on  whom  Heaven  has  bestowed  so  many  gifts  as  upon  him, 
—  form,  and  beauty,  and  meekness,  and  strength,  besides  all 
the  powers  of  the  soul  ?  "  And  together  with  these  they  said 
that  Heaven  had  given  one  gift  that  exceeded  all  the  others, 
which  was  the  beauty,  and  grace,  and  wisdom,  and  modesty  of 
his  queen,  whose  virtues  surpassed  those  of  all  the  ladies  and 
noble  maidens  throughout  the  whole  kingdom.  And  with  this 
they  put  questions  one  to  another,  Who  had  braver  men? 
Who  had  fairer  or  swifter  horses  or  greyhounds?  Who  had 
more  skilful  or  wiser  bards  than  Maelgan  ? 

When  they  had  all  made  an  end  of  their  praising  the  king 
and  his  gifts,  it  befell  that  Elphin  spoke  on  this  wise :  "  Of  a 
truth,  none  but  a  king  may  vie  with  a  king;  but  were  he  not  a 
king,  I  would  say  that  my  wife  was  as  virtuous  as  any  lady  in 
the  kingdom,  and  also  that  I  have  a  bard  who  is  more  skilful 
tli an  all  the  king's  bards."  In  a  short  space  some  of  his  fel 
lows  told  the  king  all  the  boastings  of  Elphin ;  and  the  king 
ordered  him  to  be  thrown  into  a  strong  prison  until  he  might 


TALIESIN.  311 

show  the  truth  as  to  the  virtues  of  his  wife  and  the  wisdom  of 
his  bard. 

N"ow  when  Elphin  had  been  put  in  a  tower  of  the  castle  with 
a  thick  chain  about  his  feet  (it  is  said  that  it  was  a  silver  chain, 
as  he  was  of  royal  blood), "the  king,  as  the  story  relates,  sent 
his  son  Rhun  to  inquire  into  the  demeanor  of  Elphin's  wife. 
Now  Rhun  was  the  most  graceless  man  in  the  world,  and  there 
was  neither  wife  nor  maiden  with  whom  he  held  converse  but 
was  evil  spoken  of.  While  Rhun  went  in  haste  towards  El 
phin's  dwelling,  being  fully  minded  to  bring  disgrace  upon  his 
wife,  Taliesin  told  his  mistress  how  that  the  king  had  placed 
his  master  in  durance  in  prison,  and  how  that  Rhun  was  com 
ing  in  haste  to  strive  to  bring  disgrace  upon  her.  Wherefore 
he  caused  his  mistress  to  array  one  of  the  maids  of  the  kitchen 
in  her  apparel;  which  the  noble  lady  gladly  did,  and  she 
loaded  her  hands  with  the  best  rings  that  she  and  her  husband 
possessed. 

In  this  guise  Taliesin  caused  his  mistress  to  put  the  maiden 
to  sit  at  the  board  in  her  room  at  supper ;  and  he  made  her  to 
seem  as  her  mistress,  and  the  mistress  to  seem  as  the  maid.  And 
when  they  were  in  due  time  seated  at  their  supper,  in  the  manner 
that  has  been  said,  Rhun  suddenly  arrived  at  Elphin's  dwell 
ing,  and  was  received  with  joy,  for  the  servants  knew  him ;  and 
they  brought  him  to  the  room  of  their  mistress,  in  the  sem 
blance  of  whom  the  maid  rose  up  from  supper  and  welcomed 
him  gladly.  And  afterwards  she  sat  down  to  supper  again,  and 
Rhun  with  her.  Then  Rhun  began  jesting  with  the  maid,  who 
still  kept  the  semblance  of  the  mistress.  And  verily  this  story 
shows  that  the  maiden  became  so  intoxicated  that  she  fell 
asleep ;  and  the  story  relates  that  it  was  a  powder  that  Rhun 
put  into  the  drink  that  made  her  sleep  so  soundly  that  she  never 
felt  it  when  he  cut  off  from  her  hand  her  little  finder,  whereon 

O         " 

was  the  signet  ring  of  Elphin,  which  he  had  sent  to  his  wife  as 
a  token  a  short  time  before.  And  Rhun  returned  to  the  king 
with  the  finger  and  the  ring  as  a  proof,  to  show  that  he  had  cut 
it  off  from  her  hand  without  her  awaking  from  her  sleep  of 
intemperance. 

The  king  rejoiced  greatly  at  these  tidings,  and  he  sent  for 


312  THE    MABINOGEON. 

his  councillors,  to  whom  he  told  the  whole  story  from  the  be 
ginning.  And  he  caused  Elphin  to  be  brought  out  of  prison, 
and  he  chided  him  because  of  his  boast.  And  he  spake  on 
this  wise  :  "Elphin,  be  it  known  to  thee  beyond  a  doubt,  that 
it  is  but  folly  for  a  man  to  trust  in  the  virtues  of  his  wife  fur 
ther  than  he  can  see  her;  and  that  thou  mayest  be  certain  of 
thy  wife's  vileness,  behold  her  finger,  with  thy  signet  ring 
upon  it,  which  was  cut  from  her  hand  last  night,  while  she 
slept  the  sleep  of  intoxication."  Then  thus  spake  Elphin : 
"  With  thy  leave,  mighty  king,  I  cannot  deny  my  ring,  for  it  is 
known  of  many  ;  but  verily  I  assert  that  the  finger  around 
which  it  is  was  never  attached  to  the  hand  of  my  wife ;  for  in 
truth  and  certainty  there  are  three  notable  things  pertaining 
to  it,  none  of  which  ever  belonged  to  any  of  my  wife's  fingers. 
The  first  of  the  three  is,  that  it  is  certainly  known  to  me  that 
this  ring  would  never  remain  upon  her  thumb,  whereas  you 
can  plainly  see  that  it  is  hard  to  draw  it  over  the  joint  of  the 
little  finger  of  the  hand  whence  this  was  cut.  The  second 
thing  is,  that  my  wife  has  never  let  pass  one  Saturday  since  I 
have  known  her,  without  paring  her  nails  before  going  to  bed, 
and  you  can  see  fully  that  the  nail  of  this  little  finger  has  not 
been  pared  for  a  month.  The  third  is,  truly,  that  the  hand 
whence  this  finger  came  was  kneading  rye  dough  within  three 
days  before  the  finger  was  cut  therefrom,  and  I  can  assure 
your  highness  that  my  wife  has  never  kneaded  rye  dough 
since  my  wife  she  has  been." 

The  king  was  mightily  wroth  with  Elphin  for  so  stoutly 
withstanding  him,  respecting  the  goodness  of  his  wife ;  where 
fore  he  ordered  him  to  his  prison  a  second  time,  saying  that 
he  should  not  be  loosed  thence  until  he  had  proved  the  truth 
of  his  boast,  as  well  concerning  the  wisdom  of  his  bard  as  the 
virtues  of  his  wife. 

In  the  mean  time  his  wife  and  Taliesin  remained  joyful  at 
Elphin's  dwelling.  And  Taliesin  showed  his  mistress  how  that 
Elphin  was  in  prison  because  of  them;  but  he  bade  her  be 
glad,  for  that  he  would  go  to  Maelgan's  court  to  free  his  mas 
ter.  So  he  took  leave  of  his  mistress,  and  came  to  the  court 
of  Maelgan,  who  was  going  to  sit  in  his  hall,  and  dine  in  his 


TALIESIN.  313 

royal  state,  as  it  was  the  custom  in  those  days  for  kings  and 
princes  to  do  at  every  chief  feast.  As  soon  as  Taliesin  entered 
the  hall,  he  placed  himself  in  a  quiet  corner,  near  the  place 
where  the  bards*  and  the  minstrels  were  wont  to  come,  in  doing 
their  service  and  duty  to  th'fe  king,  as  is  the  custom  at  the  high 
festivals,  when  the  bounty  is  proclaimed.  So,  when  the  bards 
and  the  heralds  came  to  cry  largess,  and  to  proclaim  the  power 
of  the  king,  and  his  strength,  at  the  moment  when  they  passed 
by  the  corner  wherein  he  was  crouching,  Taliesin  pouted  out 
his  lips  after  them,  and  played,  "Blerwm,  blerwrn  !  "  with  his 
finger  upon  his  lips.  Neither  took  they  much  notice  of  him 
as  they  went  by,  but  proceeded  forward  till  they  came  before 
the  king,  unto  whom  they  made  their  obeisance  with  their 
bodies,  as  they  were  wont,  without  speaking  a  single  word,  but 
pouting  out  their  lips,  and  making  mouths  at  the  king,  playing 
"  Blerwm,  blerwm  ! "  upon  their  lips  with  their  fingers,  as  they 
had  seen  the  boy  do.  This  sight  caused  the  king  to  wonder, 
and  to  deem  within  himself  that  they  were  drunk  with  many 
liquors.  Wherefore  he  commanded  one  of  his  lords,  who 
served  at  the  board,  to  go  to  them  and  desire  them  to  collect 
their  wits,  and  to  consider  where  they  stood,  and  what  it  was 
fitting  for  them  to  do.  And  this  lord  did  so  gladly.  But  they 
ceased  not  from  their  folly  any  more  than  before.  Whereupon 
he  sent  to  them  a  second  time,  and  a  third,  desiring  them  to 
go  forth  from  the  hall.  At  the  last  the  king  ordered  one  of 
his  squires  to  give  a  blow  to  the  chief  of  them,  named  Heinin 
Vardd ;  and  the  squire  took  a  broom  and  struck  him  on  the 
head,  so  that  he  fell  back  in  his  seat.  Then  he  arose,  and  went 
on  his  knees,  and  besought  leave  of  the  king's  grace  to  show 
that  this  their  fault  was  not  through  want  of  knowledge, 
neither  through  drunkenness,  but  by  the  influence  of  some 
spirit  that  was  in  the  hall.  And  he  spoke  on  this  wise  :  "  O 
honorable  king,  be  it  known  to  your  grace  that  not  from  the 
strength  of  drink,  or  of  too  much  liquor,  are  we  dumb,  but 
through  the  influence  of  a  spirit  that  sits  in  the  corner  yonder, 
in  the  form  of  a  child."  Forthwith  the  king  commanded  the 
squire  to  fetch  him ;  and  he  went  to  the  nook  where  Taliesin 
sat,  and  brought  him  before  the  king,  who  asked  him  what  he 


314  THE    MABINOGEON. 

was,  and  whence   he  came.     And   he  answered  the  king  in 
verse  :  — 

"  Primary  chief  bard  am  I  to  Elphin, 
And  my  native  country  is  the  region  of  the  summer  stars ; 
I  have  been  in  Asia  with  Noah  in  the  ark, 
I  have  seen  the  destruction  of  Sodom  and  Gomorrah, 
I  was  in  India  when  Rome  was  built, 
I  have  now  come  here  to  the  remnant  of  Troia." 

When  the  king  and  his  nobles  had  heard  the  song,  they 
wondered  much,  for  they  had  never  heard  the  like  from  a  boy 
so  young  as  he.  And  when  the  king  knew  that  he  was  the 
bard  of  Elphin,  he  bade  Heinin,  his  first  and  wisest  bard,  to 
answer  Taliesin,  and  to  strive  with  him.  But  when  he  came, 
he  could  do  no  other  than  play  "  Blerwm ! "  on  his  lips  ;  and 
when  he  sent  for  the  others  of  the  four  and  twenty  bards, 
they  all  did  likewise,  and  could  do  no  other.  And  Maelgan 
asked  the  boy  Taliesin  what  was  his  errand,  and  he  answered 
him  in  song  :  — 

"Elphin,  the  son  of  Gwyddno, 
Is  in  the  land  of  Artro, 
Secured  by  thirteen  locks, 
For  praising  his  instructor. 
Therefore  I,  Taliesin, 
Chief  of  the  bards  of  the  west, 
Will  loosen  Elphin 
Out  of  a  golden  fetter." 

Then  he  sang  to  them  a  riddle :  — 

"  Discover  thou  what  is 
The  strong  creature  from  before  the  flood, 
Without  flesh,  without  bone, 
Without  vein,  without  blood, 
Without  head,  without  feet ; 
It  will  neither  be  older  nor  younger 
Than  at  the  beginning. 
Behold  how  the  sea  whitens 
When  first  it  comes, 
When  it  comes  from  the  south, 
When  it  strikes  on  coasts. 
It  is  in  the  field,  it  is  in  the  wood, 
But  the  eye  cannot  perceive  it. 
One  Being  has  prepared  it, 
By  a  tremendous  blast, 
To  wreak  vengeance 
On  Maelgan  Gwynedd." 


TALIESIN.  315 

While  he  was  thus  singing  his  verse,  there  arose  a  mighty 
storm  of  wind,  so  that  the  king  and  all  his  nobles  thought  that 
the  castle  would  fall  upon  their  heads.  And  the  king  caused 
them  to  fetch  Elphin  in  haste  from  his  dungeon,  and  placed 
him  before  Taliesin.  And  It  is  said  that  immediately  he  sung 
a  verse,  so  that  the  chains  opened  from  about  his  feet. 

After  that  Taliesin  brought  Elphin's  wife  before  them,  and 
showed  that  she  had  not  one  finger  wanting.  And  in  this 
manner  did  he  set  his  master  free  from  prison,  and  protect  the 
innocence  of  his  mistress,  and  silence  the  bards  so  that  not 
one  of  them  dared  to  say  a  word.  Right  glad  was  Elphin, 
right  glad  was  Taliesin. 


THE  AGE    OF    CHIVALRY. 


PART    III. 
THE  KNIGHTS  OF  ENGLISH  HISTORY. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

KING  RICHARD  AND  THE  THIRD  CRUSADE. 

THE  Crusades  were  the  mightiest  or  rather  the  most  ambi 
tious  undertaking  of  the  chivalry  of  Europe.  From  the 
year  1096  for  more  than  a  century  the  knights  of  all  countries 
looked  to  the  Holy  Land  as  a  field  for  winning  their  spurs  and 
obtaining  pardon  of  their  sins.  And  it  is  most  natural  that  in 
giving  a  picture  of  English  chivalry  as  it  is  shown  in  history 
that  we  should  give  a  description  of  King  Richard's  exploits 
in  Palestine. 

In  the  last  decade  of  the  twelfth  century  Richard  I.  of  Eng 
land  took  the  cross,  which  had  come  to  him  as  a  sort  of  legacy 
from  his  father,  and  sailed  for  Antioch,  which  was  being  be 
sieged  by  the  Christians,  to  assist  in  the  war  in  the  Holy  Land. 
At  the  same  time  Philip  Augustus  of  France  and  Frederick 
Barbarossa  joined  the  Crusaders.  Frederick  was  drowned  in  a 
river  of  Cilicia,  and  his  force  had  so  dwindled  that  when  they 
reached  Antioch  hardly  a  tenth  of  the  number  were  left  that 
had  started.  Philip  of  France  reached  Antioch  with  his  army, 
and  there,  as  we  shall  learn  later,  he  fought  with  the  Turk  and 
quarrelled  with  the  Christian  for  a  time,  until  he  finally  set  sail 
for  France  without  having  accomplished  the  capture  of  the 

319 


320  THE    KNIGHTS    OF   ENGLISH    HISTORY. 

Holy  City.  As  for  Richard,  he  was  not  more  successful,  and 
although  his  deeds  were  so  glorious  as  to  cover  him  with 
honor,  he  was  obliged  to  return  home,  leaving  Jerusalem  still 
in  the  hands  of  infidels. 

THE  EXPLOITS  OF  KING  RICHARD. 

Now  as  the  ships  were  proceeding,  some  being  before  others, 
two  of  the  three  first,  driven  by  the  violence  of  the  winds, 
were  broken  on  the  rocks  near  the  port  of  Cyprus;  the  third, 
which  was  English,  more  speedy  than  they,  having  turned  back 
into  the  deep,  escaped  the  peril.  Almost  all  the  men  of  both 
ships  got  away  alive  to  land,  many  of  whom  the  hostile  Cypri 
otes  slew,  some  they  took  captive,  some,  taking  refuge  in  a 
certain  church,  were  besieged.  Whatever  also  in  the  ships  was 
cast  up  by  the  sea  fell  a  prey  to  the  Cypriotes.  The  prince 
also  of  that  island  coming  up,  received  for  his  share  the  gold 
and  the  arms ;  and  he  caused  the  shore  to  be  guarded  by  all 
the  armed  force  he  could  summon  together,  that  he  might  not 
permit  the  fleet  which  followed  to  approach,  lest  the  king 
should  take  again  what  had  been  thus  stolen  from  him.  Above 
the  port  was  a  strong  city,  and  upon  a  natural  rock,  a  high  and 
fortified  castle.  The  whole  of  that  nation  was  warlike  and  ac 
customed  to  live  by  theft.  They  placed  beams  and  planks  at 
the  entrance  of  the  port,  across  the  passage,  the  gates,  and  en 
trances  ;  and  the  whole  land  with  one  mind  prepared  them 
selves  for  a  conflict  with  the  English.  God  so  willed  that  the 
curse'd  people  should  receive  the  reward  of  their  evil  deeds  by 
the  hands  of  one  who  would  not  spare.  The  third  English 
ship,  in  which  were  the  women,  having  cast  out  their  anchors, 
rode  out  at  sea,  arid  watched  all  things  from  opposite,  to  report 
the  misfortunes  to  the  king,*  lest  haply,  being  ignorant  of  the 
loss  and.  disgrace,  he  should  pass  the  place  unavenged.  The 
next  line  of  the  king's  ships  came  up  after  the  other,  and  they 
are  stopped  at  the  first.  A  full  report  reached  the  king,  who, 
sending  heralds  to  the  lord  of  the  island,  and  obtaining  no  sat 
isfaction,  commanded  his  entire  army  to  arm,  from  the  first 

*  Richard  I.  of  England. 


KING    RICHARD    AND    THE    THIRD    CRUSADE.  321 

even  to  the  last,  and  to  get  out  of  the  great  ships  into  the  gal- 
leys  and  boats,  and  follow  him  to  the  shore.  What  he  com 
manded  was  immediately  performed  ;  they  came  in  arms  to  the 
port.  The  king  Being  arme^  leaped  first  from  the  galley,  and 
gave  the  first  blow  in  the  war ;  but  before  he  was  able  to  strike 
a  second  he  had  three  thousand  of  his  followers  with  him  striking 
away  at  his  side.  All  the  timber  that  had  been  placed  as  a 
barricade  in  the  port  was  cast  down  instantly,  and  the  brave 
fellows  went  up  into  the  city  as  ferocious  as  lionesses  are  wont  to 
be  when  robbed  of  their  young.  The  fight  was  carried  on 
manfully  against  them,  numbers  fell  wounded  on  both  sides, 
and  the  swords  of  both  parties  were  made  drunk  with  blood. 
The  Cypriotes  are  vanquished,  the  city  is  taken,  with  the  cas 
tle  besides ;  whatever  the  victors  choose  is  ransacked  ;  and  the 
lord  of  the  island  is  himself  taken  and  brought  to  the  king. 
He  being  taken,  supplicates  and  obtains  pardon  ;  he  offers  hom 
age  to  the  king,  and  it  is  received ;  and  he  swears,  though  un 
asked,  that  henceforth  he  will  hold  the  island  of  him  as  his 
liege  lord,  and  will  open  all  the  castles  of  the  land  to  him,  and 
make  satisfaction  for  the  damage  already  done ;  and  further 
bring  presents  of  his  own.  On  being  dismissed  after  the  oath, 
he  is  commanded  to  fulfil  the  conditions  in  the  morning. 

That  night  the  king  remained  peaceably  in  the  castle ;  and 
his  newly-sworn  vassal,  flying,  retired  to  another  castle,  and 
caused  the  whole  of  the  men  of  the  land,  who  were  able  to 
bear  arms,  to  be  summoned  to  repair  to  him,  and  so  they  did. 
The  king  of  Jerusalem,  however,  that  same  night  landed  in 
Cyprus,  that  he  might  assist  the  king  and  salute  him,  whose 
arrival  he  had  desired  above  that  of  any  other  in  the  whole 
world.  On  the  morrow  the  lord  of  Cyprus  was  sought  for  and 
found  to  have  fled.  The  king  seeing  that  he  was  abused,  and 
having  been  informed  where  he  was,  directed  the  king  of  Jeru 
salem  to  follow  the  traitor  by  land  with  the  best  of  the  army, 
while  he  conducted  the  other  part  by  water,  intending  to  be 
in  the  way  that  he  might  not  escape  by  sea.  T^e  divisions  reas 
sembled  around  the  city  in  which  he  had  taken  refuge,  and  he, 
having  sallied  out  against  the  kino;,  fought  with  the  English, 
and  the  battle  was  carried  on  sharply  by  both  sides.  TheEng- 


322  THE    KNIGHTS    OF    ENGLISH   HISTORY. 

lish  would  that  day  have  been  beaten  had  they  not  fought 
under 'the  command  of  King  Richard.  They  at  length  obtained 
a  dear-bought  victory,  the  Cypriote  flies,  and  the  castle  is  taken. 
The  kings  pursue  him  as  before,  the  one  by  land  and  the  other 
by  water,  and  he  is  besieged  in  the  third  castle.  Its  walls  are 
cast  down  by  engines  hurling  huge  stones  ;  he,  being  overcome, 
promises  to  surrender,  if  only  he  might  not  be  put  in  iron  fet 
ters.  The  king  consents  to  the  prayers  of  the  supplicant,  and 
caused  silver  shackles  to  be  made  for  him.  The  prince  of  the 
pirates  being  thus  taken,  the  king  traversed  the  whole  island, 
and  took  all  its  castles,  and  placed  his  constables  in  each,  and 
constituted  justiciaries  and  sheriffs,  and  the  whole  land  was 
subjected  to  him  in  everything  just  like  England.  The  gold, 
and  the  silks  and  the  jewels  from  the  treasuries  that  were 
broken  open,  he  retained  for  himself;  the  silver  and  victuals  lie 
gave  to  the  army.  To  the  king  of  Jerusalem  also  he  made  a 
handsome  present  out  of  the  booty. 

The  king  proceeding  thence,  came  to  the  siege  of  Acre,  and 
was  welcomed  by  the  besiegers  with  as  great  a  joy  as  if  it  had 
been  Christ  that  had  come  again  on  earth  to  restore  the  king 
dom  of  Israel.  The  king  of  the  French  had  arrived  at  Acre 
first,  and  was  very  highly  esteemed  by  the  natives;  but  on 
Richard's  arrival  he  became  obscured  and  without  considera 
tion,  just  as  the  moon  is  wont  to  relinquish  her  lustre  at  the 
rising  of  the  sun. 

The  king  of  the  English,  unused  to  delay,  on  the  third  day 
of  his  arrival  at  the  siege,  caused  his  wooden  fortress,  which 
he  had  called  "Mate  Grifun,"  when  it  was  made  in  Sicily,  to 
be  built  and  set  up,  and  before  the  dawn  of  the  fourth  day 
the  machine  stood  erect  by  the  walls  of  Acre,  and  from  its 
height  looked  down  upon  the  city  lying  beneath  it ;  and  there 
were  thereon  by  sunrise  archers  casting  missiles  without  inter 
mission  on  the  Turks  and  Thracians.  Engines  also  for  casting 
stones,  placed  in  convenient  positions,  battered  the  walls  with 
frequent  volleys.  More  important  than  these,  the  sappers, 
making  themselves  a  way  beneath  the  ground,  undermined  the 
foundations  of  the  walls ;  while  soldiers,  bearing  shields,  hav 
ing  planted  ladders,  sought  an  entrance  over  the  ramparts. 


KING    RICHARD    AND    THE    THIRD    CRUSADE.  323 

The  king  himself  was  running  up  and  down  through  the  ranks, 
directing  some,  reproving  some,  and  urging  others,  and  thus 
was  he  everywhere  present  with  every  one  of  them,  so  that 
whatever  they  all  did  ought  properly  to  be  ascribed  to  him. 
The  king  of  the  French  also* did  not  lightly  assail  them,  mak 
ing  as  bold  an  assault  as  he  could  on  the  tower  of  the  city  which 
is  called  Cursed. 

The  renowned  Carracois  and  Mestocus,  after  Saladin,  the 
most  powerful  princes  of  the  heathen,  had  at  that  time  the 
el  large  of  the  besieged  city,  who,  after  a  contest  of  many  days, 
promised  by  their  interpreters  the  surrender  of  the  city,  and  a 
ransom  for  their  heads ;  but  the  king  of  the  English  desired  to 
subdue  their  obstinacy  by  force ;  and  wished  that  the  van 
quished  should  pay  their  heads  for  the  ransom  of  their  bodies, 
but  by  the  mediation  of  the  king  of  the  French  their  life  and 
indemnity  of  limbs  only  was  accorded,  if,  after  the  surrender 
of  the  city  and  yielding  of  everything  they  possessed,  the  Holy 
Cross  should  be  given  up. 

All  the  heathen  warriors  in  Acre  were  chosen  men,  and  were 
in  number  nine  thousand ;  many  of  whom,  swallowing  many 
gold  coins,  made  a  purse  of  their  stomachs,  because  they  fore 
saw  that  whatever  they  had  of  any  value  would  be  turned 
against  them,  even  against  themselves,  if  they  should  again 
oppose  the  cross,  and  would  only  fall  a  prey  to  the  victors.  So 
all  of  them  came  out  before  the  kings  entirely  disarmed,  and 
outside  the  city,  without  money,  are  given  into  custody ;  and 
the  kings,  with  triumphal  banners,  having  entered  the  city, 
divided  the  whole  with  all  its  stores  into  two  parts  between 
themselves  and  their  soldiers ;  the  pontiff's  seat  alone  its  bishop 
received  by  their  united  gift.  The  captives,  being  divided, 
Mestocus  fell  by  lot  to  the  portion  of  the  king  of  the  English, 
and  Carracois,  as  a  drop  of  cold  water,  fell  into  the  mouth  of 
the  thirsty  Philip,  king  of  the  French. 

Messengers  on  the  part  of  the  captives  having  been  sent  to 
Saladin  for  their  ransom,  when  the  heathen  could  by  no  en 
treaty  be  moved  to  restore  the  Holy  Cross,  the  king  of  the  Eng 
lish  beheaded  all  his,  with  the  exception  of  Mestocus  only,  who 
on  account  of  his  nobility  was  spared,  and  declared  openly, 


324  THE    KNIGHTS    OF    ENGLISH    HISTORY. 

without  any  ceremony,  that  he  would  act  in  the  same  way  to 
ward  Salad  in  himself. 

The  king  of  the  English,  then,  having  sent  for  the  command 
ers  of  the  French,  proposed  that  in  the  first  place  they  should 
conjointly  attempt  Jerusalem  itself;  but  the  dissuasion  of 
the  French  discouraged  the  hearts  of  both  parties,  dispirited 
the  troops,  and  restrained  the  king,  thus  destitute  of  men,  from 
his  intended  march  on  that  metropolis.  The  king,  troubled  at 
this,  though  not  despairing,  from  that  day  forth  separated  his 
army  from  the  French,  and  directing  his  arms  to  the  storming 
of  castles  along  the  seashore,  he  took  every  fortress  that  came 
in  his  way  from  Tyre  to  Ascalon,  though  after  hard  fighting 
and  deep  wounds.* 

On  the  Saturday,  the  eve  of  the  Nativity  of  the  blessed  Vir 
gin  Mary,  at  earliest  dawn,  our  men  armed  themselves  witli 
great  care  to  receive  the  Turks,  who  were  known  to  have  pre 
ceded  their  march,  and  whose  insolence  nothing  but  a  battle 
could  check.  The  enemy  had  ranged  themselves  in  order, 
drawing  gradually  nearer  and  nearer ;  and  our  men  also  took 
the  utmost  care  to  place  themselves  in  as  good  order  as  possi 
ble.  King  Richard,  who  was  most  experienced  in  military 
affairs,  arranged  the  army  in  squadrons,  and  directed  who 
should  march  in  front  and  who  in  the  rear.  He  divided  the 
army  into  twelve  companies,  and  these  again  into  five  divisions, 
marshalled  according  as  the  men  ranked  in  military  discipline; 
and  none  could  be  found  more  warlike,  if  they  had  only  had 
confidence  in  God,  \vho  is  the  giver  of  all  good  things.  On 
that  day  the  Telnplars  formed  the  first  rank,  and  after  them 
came,  in  due  order,  the  Bretons  and  men  of  Anjou;  then  fol 
lowed  King  Guy,  with  the  men  of  Pictou;  and  in  the  fourth 
line  were  the  Normans  and  English,  who  had  the  care  of  the 
royal  standard,  and  last  of  all  marched  the  Hospitallers:  this 
line  was  composed  of  chosen  warriors,  divided  into  companies. 
They  kept  together  so  closely  that  an  apple,  if  thrown,  would 
not  have  fallen  to  the  ground  without  touching  a  man  or  a 
horse;  and  the  army  stretched  from  the  army  of  Saracens  to 

*  The  preceding  narrative  is  taken  from  the  Chronicle  of  Richard  of  Devizes. 
What  follows  is  from  the  Chronicle  of  Geoffrey  de  Vinsauf. 


KING   RICHARD    AND    THE    THIRD    CRUSADE.  325 

the  seashore.  There  you  might  have  seen  their  most  appro 
priate  distinctions,  —  standards,  and  ensigns  of  various  forms, 
and  hardy  soldiers,  fresh  and  full  of  spirits,  and  well  fitted  for 
war.  Henry,  Qount  of  ChampMgne,  kept  guard  on  the  moun 
tain  side,  and  maintained*  a  constant  lookout  on  the  flank  ; 
the  foot-soldiers,  bowmen,  and  arbalesters  were  on  the  outside, 
and  the  rear  of  the  army  was  closed  by  the  post  horses  and 
wagons,  which  carried  provisions  and  other  things,  and  jour 
neyed  along  between  the  army  and  the  sea,  to  avoid  an  attack 
from  the  enemy. 

This  was  the  order  of  the  army,  as  it  advanced  gradually, 
to  prevent  separation ;  for  the  less  close  the  line  of  battle,  the 
less  effective  was  it  for  resistance.  King  Richard  and  the 
Duke  of  Burgundy,  with  a  chosen  retinue  of  warriors,  rode 
up  and  down,  narrowly  watching  the  position  and  manner  of 
the  Turks,  to  correct  anything  in  their  own  troops,  if  they 
saw  occasion,  for  they  had  need,  at  that  moment,  of  the  utmost 
circumspection. 

It  w7.as  now  nearly  nine  o'clock,  when  there  appeared  a 
large  body  of  the  Turks,  ten  thousand  strong,  coming  down 
upon  us  at  full  charge,  and  throwing  darts  and  arrows  as  far 
as  they  could,  while  they  mingled  their  voices  in  one  horrible 
yell.  There  followed  after  them  an  infernal  race  of  men,  of 
black  color,  and  bearing  a  suitable  appellation,  expressive  of 
their  blackness.  With  them  also  were  the  Saracens,  who  live 
in  the  desert,  called  Bedouins;  they  are  a  savage  race  of  men, 
blacker  than  soot;  they  fight  on  foot,  and  carry  a  bow,  quiver, 
and  round  shield,  and  are  a  light  and  active  race.  These  men 
dauntlessly  attacked  our  army.  Beyond  these  might  be  seen 
the  well-arranged  phalanxes  of  the  Turks,  with  ensigns  fixed 
to  their  lances,  and  standards  and  banners  of  separate  dis 
tinctions.  Their  army  was  divided  into  troops,  and  the  troops 
into  companies,  and  their  numbers  seemed  to  exceed  twenty 
thousand.  They  came  on  with  irresistible  charge,  on  horses 
swifter  than  eagles,  and  urged  on  like  lightning  to  attack  our 
men  ;  and  as  they  advanced  they  raised  a  cloud  of  dust,  so 
that  the  air  was  darkened.  In  front  came  certain  of  their 
admirals,  as  it  was  their  duty,  with  clarions  and  trumpets; 


326  THE    KNIGHTS    OF    ENGLISH    HISTORY. 

some  had  horns,  others  had  pipes  and  timbrels,  gongs,  cymbals, 
and  other  instruments,  producing  a  horrible  noise  and  clamor. 
The  earth  vibrated  from  the  loud  and  discordant  sounds,  so 
that  the  crash  of  thunder  could  not  be  heard  amidst  the  tumul 
tuous  noise  of  horns  and  trumpets.  They  did  this  to  excite 
their  spirit  and  courage,  for  the  more  violent  their  clamor  'be 
came,  the  more  bold  were  they  for  the  fray.  Thus  the  impious 
Turks  threatened  us,  both  on  the  side  towards  the  sea  and 
from  the  side  of  the  land ;  and  for  the  space  of  two  miles  not 
so  much  earth  as  could  be  taken  up  in  one  hand  could  be  seen, 
on  account  of  the  hostile  Turks  who  covered  it.  Oh,  how 
obstinately  they  pressed  on,  and  continued  their  stubborn 
attacks,  so  that  our  men  suffered  severe  loss  of  their  horses, 
which  were  killed  by  their  darts  and  arrows.  Oh,  how  useful 
to  us  on  that  day  were  our  arbalesters  and  bowmen,  who 
closed  the  extremities  of  the  lines,  and  did  their  best  to  repel 
the  obstinate  Turks. 

The  enemy  came  rushing  down,  like  a  torrent,  to  the  attack  ; 
and  many  of  our  arbalesters,  unable  to  restrain  the  weight  of 
their  terrible  and  calamitous  charge,  threw  away  their  arms, 
and,  fearing  lest  they  should  be  shut  out,  took  refuge,  in 
crowds,  behind  the  dense  lines  of  the  army  ;  yielding  through 
fear  of  death  to  sufferings  which  they  could  not  support. 
Those  whom  shame  forbade  to  yield,  or  the  hope  of  an  immor 
tal  crown  sustained,  were  animated  with  greater  boldness  and 
courage  to  persevere  in  the  contest,  and  fought  with  indefati 
gable  valor  face  to  face  against  the  Turks,  whilst  they  at  the 
same  time  receded  step  by  step,  and  so  reached  their  retreat. 
The  whole  of  that  day,  on  account  of  the  Turks  pressing  them 
closely  from  behind,  they  faced  around  and  went  on  skirmish 
ing,  rather  than  proceeding  on  their  march. 

On,  how  great  was  the  strait  they  were  in  on  that  day  !  how 
great  was  their  tribulation  !  when  some  were  affected  with 
fears,  and  no  one  had  such  confidence  or  spirit  as  not  to  wish, 
at  that  moment,  he  had  finished  his  pilgrimage,  and  had 
returned  home,  instead  of  standing  with  trembling  heart  the 
chances  of  a  doubtful  battle.  In  truth  our  people,  so  few  in 
number,  were  so  hemmed  in  by  the  multitudes  of  the  Saracens, 


KING    RICHARD    AND    THE    THIRD    CRUSADE.  327 

that  they  had  no  means  of  escape,  if  they  tried ;  neither  did 
they  seem  to  have  valor  sufficient  to  withstand  so  many  foes, — 
nay,  they  were  shut  in  like  a  flock  of  sheep  in  the  jaws  of 
wolves,  with  nothing  but  the  sky  above,  and  the  enemy  all 
around  them.  O  Lord  God! 'what  feelings  agitated  that  weak 
flock  of  Christ !  straitened  by  such  a  perplexity,  whom  the 
enemy  pressed  with  such  unabating  vigor,  as  if  they  would 
pass  them  through  a  sieve.  What  army  was  ever  assailed  by 
so  mighty  a  force?  There  you  might  have  seen  our  troopers, 
having  lost  their  chargers,  marching  on  foot  with  the  footmen, 
or  casting  missiles  from  the  arbalests,  or  arrows  from  bows, 
against  the  enemy,  and  repelling  their  attacks  in  the  best 
manner  they  were  able.  The  Turks,  skilled  in  the  bow, 
pressed  unceasingly  upon  them  ;  it  rained  darts ;  the  air  was 
filled  with  the  shower  of  arrows,  and  the  brightness  of  the 
sun  was  obscured  by  the  multitude  of  missiles,  as  if  it  had 
been  darkened  by  a  fall  of  winter's  hail  or  snow.  Our  horses 
were  pierced  by  the  darts  and  arrows,  which  were  so  numerous 
that  the  whole  face  of  the  earth  around  was  covered  with 
them,  and  if  any  one  wished  to  gather  them  up,  he  might  take 
twenty  of  them  in  his  hand  at  a  time. 

The  Turks  pressed  with  such  boldness  that  they  nearly 
crushed  the  Hospitallers ;  on  which  the  latter  sent  word  to 
King  Richard  that  they  could  not  withstand  the  violence  of 
the  enemy's  attack,  unless  he  would  allow  their  knights  to 
advance  at  full  charge  against  them.  This  the  king  dissuaded 
them  from  doing,  but  advised  them  to  keep  in  a  close  body ; 
they  therefore  persevered  and  kept  together,  though  scarcely 
able  to  breathe  for  the  pressure.  By  these  means  they  were 
able  to  proceed  on  their  way,  though  the  heat  happened  to  be 
very  great  on  that  day ;  so  that  they  labored  under  two  disad 
vantages, —  the  hot  weather  and  the  attacks  of  the  enemy. 
These  approved  martyrs  of  Christ  sweated  in  the  contest ; 
and  he  who  could  have  seen  them  closed  up  in  a  narrow  space, 
so  patient  under  the  heat  and  toil  of  the  day  and  the  attacks 
of  the  enemy,  who  exhorted  each  other  to  destroy  the  Chris 
tians,  could  not  doubt  in  his  mind  that  it  augured  ill  to  our 
success  from  their  straitened  and  perilous  position,  hemmed  in 


328  THE    KNIGHTS    OF   ENGLISH   HISTORY. 

as  they  were  by  so  large  a  multitude ;  for  the  enemy  thun 
dered  at  their  backs  as  if  with  mallets,  so  that,  having  no  room 
to  use  their  bows,  they  fought  hand  to  hand  with  swords, 
lances,  and  clubs  ;  and  the  blows  of  the  Turks,  echoing  from 
their  metal  armor,  resounded  as  if  they  had  been  struck  upon 
an  anvil.  They  were  now  tormented  with  the  heat,  and  no 
rest  was  allowed  them.  The  battle  fell  heavy  on  the  extreme 
line  of  the  Hospitallers,  the  more  so  as  they  were  unable  to 
resist,  but  moved  forward  with  patience  under  their  wounds, 
returning  not  even  a  word  for  the  blows  which  fell  upon  them, 
and  advancing  on  their  way  because  they  were  not  able  to 
bear  the  weight  of  the  contest. 

Then  they  pressed  on  for  safety  upon  the  centre  of  the  army 
which  was  in  front  of  them,  to  avoid  the  fury  of  the  enemy 
who  harassed  them  in  the  rear.  Was  it  wonderful  that  no  one 
could  withstand  so  continuous  an  attack,  when  he  could  not 
even  return  a  blow  to  the  numbers  who  pressed  on  him?  The 
strength  of  all  Paganism  had  gathered  together  from  Damas 
cus  and  Persia,  from  the  Mediterranean  to  the  East ;  there 
was  not  left  in  the  uttermost  recesses  of  the  earth  one  man  of 
fame  or  power,  one  nation's  valor,  or  one  bold  soldier,  whom 
the  sultan  had  not  summoned  to  his  aid,  either  by  entreaty,  by 
money,  or  by  authority,  to  crush  the  Christian  race ;  for  he 
presumed  to  hope  he  could  blot  them  from  the  face  of  the 
earth;  but  his  hopes  were  vain,  for  their  numbers  were  suffi 
cient,  through  the  assistance  of  God,  to  effect  their  purpose. 
The  flower  of  the  chosen  youth  and  soldiers  of  Christendom 
had  indeed  assembled  together,  and  were  united  in  one  body, 
like  ears  of  corn  on  their  stalks,  from  every  region  of  the 
earth;  and  if  they  had-  been  utterly  destroyed,  there  is  no 
doubt  that  there  were  some  left  to  make  resistance. 

A  cloud  of  dust  obscured  the  air  as  our  men  marched  on  ; 
and,  in  addition  to  the  heat,  they  had  an  enemy  pressing  them 
in  the  rear,  insolent,  and  rendered  obstinate  by  the  instigation 
of  the  devil.  Still  the  Christiana  proved  good  men,  and  secure 
in  their  unconquerable  spirit,  kept  constantly  advancing,  while 
the  Turks  threatened  them  without  ceasing  in  the  rear ;  but 
their  blows  fell  harmless  upon  the  defensive  armor,  'and  this 


KING   KIGIIAKD    AND    THE    THIRD   CRUSADE.  329 

caused  the  Turks  to  slacken  in  courage  at  the  failure  of  their 
attempts,  and  they  began  to  murmur  in  whispers  of  disap 
pointment,  crying  out  in  their  rage,  "  that  our  people  were  made 
of  iron  and  would  yield  to  no  blow."  Then  the  Turks,  about 
twenty  thousand  strong,  rushed  again  upon  our  men  pell-mell, 
annoying  them  in  every  possible  manner  ;  when,  as  if  overcome 
by  their  savage  fury,  brother  Gamier  de  Napes,  one  of  the 
Hospitallers,  suddenly  exclaimed  with  a  loud  voice,  "O  excel 
lent  St.  George  !  will  you  leave  us  to  be  thus  put  to  confusion  ? 
The  whole  of  Christendom  is  now  on  the  point  of  perishing, 
because  it  fears  to  return  a  blow  against  this  impious  race." 

Upon  this  the  master  of  the  Hospitallers  went  to  the  king, 
and  said  to  him,  "  My  lord  the  king,  we  are  violently  pressed 
by  the  enemy,  and  are  in  danger  of  eternal  infamy,  as  if  we  did 
not  dare  to  return  their  blows;  we  are  each  of  us  losing  our 
horses  one  after  another,  and  why  should  we  bear  with  them 
any  further?"  To  whom  the  king  replied,  "Good  master, it  is 
you  who  must  sustain  their  attack ;  no  one  can  be  everywhere  at 
once."  On  the  master  returning,  the  Turks  again  made  a  fierce 
attack  on  them  from  the  rear,  and  there  was  not  a  prince  or 
count  amongst  them  but  blushed  with  shame,  and  they  said  to 
each  other,  "  Why  do  we  not  charge  them  at  full  gallop  ?  Alas  ! 
alas  !  we  shall  forever  deserve  to  be  called  cowards,  a  thing 
which  never  happened  to  us  before,  for  never  has  such  a  dis 
grace  befallen  so  great  an  army,  even  from  unbelievers.  Un 
less  we  defend  ourselves  by  immediately  charging  the  enemy 
we  shall  gain  everlasting  scandal,  and  so  much  the  greater  the 
longer  we  delay  to  fight."  O,  how  blind  is  human  fate!  On 
what  slippery  points  it  stands !  Alas,  on  how  uncertain  wheels 
doth  it  advance,  and  with  what  ambiguous  success  doth  it  un 
fold  the  course  of  human  things !  A  countless  multitude  of 
the  Turks  would  have  perished  if  the  aforesaid  attempt  had 
been  orderly  conducted ;  but  to  punish  us  for  our  sins,  as  it  is 
believed,  the  potter's  ware  produces  a  paltry  vessel  instead  of 
the  grand  design  which  he  had  conceived.  For  when  they 
were  treating  on  this  point,  and  had  come  to  the  same  decision 
about  charging  the  enemy,  two  knights,  who  were  impatient  of 
de^ay,  put  everything  in  confusion.  It  had  been  resolved  by 


330  THE    KNIGHTS    OF    ENGLISH    HISTORY. 

common  consent  that  the  sounding  of  six  trumpets  in  three 
different  parts  of  the  army  should  be  a  signal  for  a  charge, 
viz.,  two  in  front,  two  in  the  rear,  and  two  in  the  middle,  to 
distinguish  the  sounds  from  those  of  the  Saracens,  and  to  mark 
the  distance  of  each.  If  these  orders  had  been  attended  to,  the 
Turks  would  have  been  utterly  discomfited  ;  but  from  the  too 
great  haste  of  the  aforesaid  knights  the  success  of  the  affair 
was  marred. 

They  rushed  at  full  gallop  upon  the  Turks,  and  each  of  them 
prostrated  his  man  by  piercing  him  through  with  his  lance. 
One  of  them  was  the  marshal  of  the  Hospitallers,  the  other 
was  Baldwin  de  Carreo,  a  good  and  brave  man,  and  the  com 
panion  of  King  Richard,  who  had  brought  him  in  his  retinue. 
When  the  other  Christians  observed  these  two  rushing  forward, 
and  heard  them  calling  with  a  clear  voice  on  St.  George  for 
aid,  they  charged  the  Turks  in  a  body  with  all  their  strength ; 
then  the  Hospitallers,  who  had  been  distressed  all  day  by 
their  close  array,  following  the  two  soldiers,  charged  the  enemy 
in  troops,  so  that  the  van  of  the  army  became  the  rear  from 
their  position  in  the  attack,  and  the  Hospitallers,  who  had  been 
the  last,  were  the  first  to  charge. 

The  Count  of  Champagne  also  burst  forward  with  his  chosen 
company,  and  James  d'Avennes  with  his  kinsmen,  and  also 
Robert  Count  of  Dreux,  the  bishop  of  Beauvais  and  his  brother, 
as  well  as  the  Earl  of  Leicester,  who  made  a  fierce  charge  on 
the  left  towards  the  sea.  Why  need  we  name  each  ?  Those 
who  were  in  the  first  line  of  the  rear  made  a  united  and  furious 
charge;  after  them  the  men  of  Poictou,  the  Bretons,  and  the 
men  of  Anjou,  rushed  swiftly  onward,  and  then  came  the  rest 
of  the  army  in  a  body  :  each  troop  showed  its  valor,  and  boldly 
closed  with  the  Turks,  transfixing  them  with  their  lances,  and 
casting  them  to  the  ground.  The  sky  grew  black  with  the 
dust  that  was  raised  in  the  confusion  of  that  encounter.  The 
Turks,  who  had  purposely  dismounted  from  their  horses  in 
order  to  take  better  aim  at  our  men  with  their  darts  and  arrows, 
were  slain  on  all  sides  in  that  charge,  for  on  being  prostrated 
by  the  horse-soldiers  they  were  beheaded  by  the  foot-men. 
King  Richard,  on  seeing  his  army  in  motion  and  in  encounter 


KING    KICHARD    AND    THE    THIRD    CRUSADE.  331 

with  the  Turks,  flew  rapidly  on  his  horse  at  full  speed  through 
the  Hospitallers,  who  had  led  the  charge,  and  to  whom  he  was 
bringing  assistance  with  all  his  retinue,  and  broke  into  the 
Turkish  infantry^  who  were  astonished  at  his  blows  and  those 
of  his  men,  and  gave  way  to"  the  right  and  to  the  left. 

Then  might  be  seen  numbers  prostrated  on  the  ground, 
horses  without  their  riders  in  crowds,  the  wounded  lamenting 
with  groans  their  hard  fate,  and  others  drawing  their  last 
breath,  weltering  in  their  gore,  and  many  lay  headless,  whilst 
their  lifeless  forms  were  trodden  under  foot  both  by  friend  and 
foe.  Oh,  how  different  are  the  speculations  of  those  who  medi 
tate  amidst  the  columns  of  the  cloister  from  the  fearful  exer 
cise  of  war !  There  the  king,  the  fierce,  the  extraordinary 
king,  cut  down  the  Turks  in  every  direction,  and  none  could 
escape  the  force  of  his  arm,  for  wherever  he  turned,  brandish 
ing  his  sword,  he  carved  a  wide  path  for  himself;  and  as  he 
advanced  and  gave  repeated  strokes  with  his  sword,  cutting  them 
down  like  a  reaper  with  his  sickle,  the  rest,  warned  by  the  sight 
of  the  dying,  gave  him  more  ample  space,  for  the  corpses  of  the 
dead  Turks  which  lay  on  the  face  of  the  earth  extended  over 
half  a  mile.  In  fine,  the  Turks  were  cut  down,  the  saddles 
emptied  of  their  riders,  and  the  dust  which  was  raised  by  the 
conflict  of  the  combatants  proved  very  hurtful  to  our  men,  for 
on  becoming  fatigued  from  slaying  so  many,  when  they  were 
retiring  to  take  fresh  air,  they  could  not  recognize  each  other 
on  account  of  the  thick  dust,  and  struck  their  blows  indiscrim 
inately  to  the  right  and  to  the  left;  so  that  unable  to  distin 
guish  friend  from  foe  they  took  their  own  men  for  enemies  and 
cut  them  down  without  mercy.  Then  the  Christians  pressed 
hard  on  the  Turks,  the  latter  gave  way  before  them :  but  for  a 
long  time  the  battle  was  doubtful ;  they  still  exchanged  blows, 
and  either  party  strove  for  the  victory;  on  both  sides  were 
seen  some  retreating,  covered  Avith  wounds,  while  others  fell 
slain  to  the  ground. 

Oh,  how  many  banners  and  standards  of  different  forms, 
and  pennons  and  many-colored  ensigns,  might  there  be  seen 
torn  and  fallen  on  the  earth;  swords  of  proved  steel,  and 
lances  made  of  cane  with  iron  heads,  Turkish  bows,  and  maces 


332  THE    KNIGHTS    OF    ENGLISH    HISTORY. 

bristling  with  sharp  teeth,  darts  and  arrows  covering  the 
ground,  and  missiles  enough  to  load  twenty  wagons  or  more ! 
There  lay  the  headless  trunks  of  the  Turks  who  had  perished, 
whilst  others  retained  their  courage  for  a  time  until  our  men 
increased  in  strength,  when  some  of  them  concealed  themselves 
in  the  copses,  some  climbed  up  trees,  and,  being  shot  with 
arrows,  fell  with  a  fearful  groan  to  the  earth ;  others,  abandon 
ing  their  horses,  betook  themselves  by  slippery  footpaths  to 
the  seaside,  and  tumbled  headlong  into  the  waves  from  the  pre 
cipitous  cliffs  that  were  five  poles  in  height.  The  rest  of  the 
enemy  \vere  repulsed  in  so  wonderful  a  manner  that  for  the 
space  of  two  miles  nothing  could  be  seen  but  fugitives,  although 
they  had  before  been  so  obstinate  and  fierce,  and  puffed  up 
with  pride ;  but  by  God's  grace  their  pride  was  humbled,  and 
they  continued  still  to  fly,  for  when  our  men  ceased  the  pur 
suit  fear  alone  added  wings  to  their  feet.  Our  army  had  been 
ranged  in  divisions  when  they  attacked  the  Turks ;  the  Nor 
mans  and  English  also,  who  had  the  care  of  the  standard,  came 
up  slowly  towards  the  troops  which  were  fighting  with  the 
Turks,  —  for  it  was  very  difficult  to  disperse  the  enemy's 
strength,  and  they  stopped  at  a  short  distance  therefrom,  that 
all  might  have  a  rallying  point.  On  the  conclusion  of  the 
slaughter  our  men  paused;  but  the  fugitives,  to  the  number  of 
twenty  thousand,  when  they  saw  this,  immediately  recovering 
their  courage,  and  armed  with  maces,  charged  the  hindmost 
of  those  who  were  retiring,  and  rescued  some  from  our  men 
who  had  just  struck  them  down. 

Oh,  how  dreadfully  were  our  men  then  pressed  !  for  the  darts 
and  arrows,  thrown  at  them  as  they  were  falling  back,  broke  the 
heads,  arms,  and  other  limbs  of  our  horsemen,  so  that  they  bent, 
stunned,  to  their  saddle-bows;  but  having  quickly  regained 
their  spirits  and  resumed  their  strength,  and  thirsting  for  ven 
geance  with  greater  eagerness,  like  a  lioness  when  her  whelps 
are  stolen,  they  charged  the  enemy,  and  broke  through  them 
like  a  net.  Then  you  might  have  seen  the  horses  with  their 
saddles  displaced,  and  the  Turks,  who  had  but  just  now  fled, 
returning,  and  pressing  upon  our  people  with  the  utmost  fury; 
every  cast  of  their  darts  would  have  told  had  our  men  kept 


KING    RICHARD    AND    THE    THIRD    CRUSADE.  333 

marching,  and  not  stood  still  in  a  compact,  immovable  body. 
The  commander  of  the  Turks  was  an  admiral,  named  Teked- 
nms,  a  kinsman  of  the  sultan,  having  a  banner  with  a  remark 
able  device ;  namely,  that  of  a  pair  of  breeches  carved  thereon, 
a  symbol  well  known  to  his  men.  Pie  was  a  most  cruel  perse 
cutor,  and  a  persevering  enemy  of  the  Christians ;  and  he  had 
under  his  command  seven  hundred  chosen  Turks  of  great  valor, 
of  the  household  troops  of  Saladin,  each  of  whose  companies 
bore  a  yellow  banner  with  pennons  of  a  different  color.  These 
men,  coming  at  full  charge,  with  clamor  and  haughty  bearing, 
attacked  our  men,  who  were  turning  off  from  them  towards 
the  standard,  cutting  at  them,  and  piercing  them  severely,  so 
that  even  the  firmness  of  our  chiefs  wavered  under  the  weight 
of  the  pressure  ;  yet  our  men  remained  immovable,  compelled 
to  repel  force  by  force.  And  the  conflict  grew  thicker,  the 
blows  were  redoubled,  and  the  battle  waxed  fiercer  than  be 
fore  :  the  one  side  labored  to  crush,  the  other  to  repel ;  both 
exerted  their  strength,  and  although  our  men  were  by  far  the 
fewest  in  numbers,  they  made  havoc  of  great  multitudes  of  the 
enemy ;  and  that  portion  of  the  army  which  thus  toiled  in  the 
battle  could  not  return  to  the  standard  with  ease,  on  account 
of  the  immense  mass  which  pressed  upon  them  so  severely; 
for  thus  hemmed  in  they  began  to  flag  in  courage,  and  but  few 
dared  to  renew  the  attack  of  the  enemy.  In  truth,  the  Turks 
were  furious  in  the  assault,  and  greatly  distressed  our  men, 
whose  blood  poured  forth  in  a  stream  beneath  their  blows- 
On  perceiving  them  reel  and  give  way,  William  de  Barris,  a  re 
nowned  knight,  breaking  through  the  ranks,  charged  the  Turks 
witli  his  men  ;  and  such  was  the  vigor  of  the  onset  that  some 
fell  by  the  edge  of  his  sword,  while  others  only  saved  them 
selves  by  rapid  flight.  For  all  that,  the  king,  mounted  on  a 
bay  Cyprian  steed,  which  had  not  its  match,  bounded  forward 
in  the  direction  of  the  mountains,  and  scattered  those  he  met 
on  all  sides;  for  the  enemy  fled  from  his  sword  and  gave  way, 
while  helmets  tottered  beneath  it,  and  sparks  flew  forth  from 
its  strokes.  So  great  was  the  fury  of  his  onset,  and  so  many 
and  deadly  his  blows  that  day,  in  his  conflict  with  the  Turks, 
that  in  a  short  space  of  time  the  enemy  were  all  scattered,  and 


334  THE    KNIGHTS    OF    ENGLISH    HISTORY. 

allowed  our  array  to  proceed  ;  and  thus  our  men,  having  suf 
fered  somewhat,  at  last  returned  to  the  standard,  and  pro 
ceeded  on  their  march  as  far  as  Arsur,  and  there  they  pitched 
their  tents  outside  its  walls. 

While  they  were  thus  engaged  a  large  body  of  the  Turks 
made  an  attack  on  the  extreme  rear  of  our  army.  On  hearing 
the  noise  of  the  assailants,  King  Richard,  encouraging  his  men 
to  battle,  rushed  at  full  speed,  with  only  fifteen  companions, 
against  the  Turks,  crying  out,  with  a  loud  voice,  "Aid  us,  O 
God  !  and  the  Holy  Sepulchre  ! "  and  this  he  exclaimed  a  sec 
ond  and  a  third  time ;  and  when  our  men  heard  it  they  made 
haste  to  follow  him,  and  attacked,  routed,  and  put  them  to 
flight;  pursuing  them  as  far  as  Arsur,  whence  they  had  first 
come  out,  cutting  them  down  and  subduing  them.  Many  of 
the  Turks  fell  there  also.  The  king  returned  thence  from  the 
slaughter  of  the  fugitives  to  his  camp  ;  and  the  men,  overcome 
with  the  fatigue  and  exertions  of  the  day,  rested  quietly  that 
night. 

Whoever  was  greedy  of  gain,  and  wished  to  plunder  the 
booty,  returned  to  the  place  of  battle,  and  loaded  himself  to 
his  heart's  desire ;  and  those  who  returned  from  thence  reported 
that  they  had  counted  thirty-two  Turkish  chiefs  who  were 
found  slain  on  that  day,  and  whom  they  supposed  to  be  men 
of  great  influence  and  power  from  the  splendor  of  their  armor 
and  the  costliness  of  their  apparel.  The  Turks  also  made  search 
for  them  to  carry  them  away  as  being  of  the  most  importance; 
and  besides  these  the  Turks  carried  off  seven  thousand  man 
gled  bodies  of  those  who  were  next  in  rank,  besides  of  the 
wounded,  who  went  off  in  straggling  parties  ;  and  when  their 
strength  failed  lay  about  the  fields  and  died.  But  by  the  pro 
tection  of  God  we  did  not  lose  a  tenth,  nor  a  hundredth  part 
so  many  as  fell  in  the  Turkish  army.  Oh,  the  disasters  of  that 
day!  Oh,  the  trials  of  the  warriors!  for  the  tribulations  of  the 
just  are  many.  Oh,  mournful  calamity  and  bitter  distress. 
How  great  must  have  been  the  blackness  of  our  sins  to  require 
so  fiery  an  ordeal  to  purify  it,  for  if  we  had  striven  to  overcome 
the  urgent  necessity  by  pious  long-suffering,  and  without  a 
murmur,  the  sense  of  our  obligations  would  have  been  deeper. 


KING    RICHARD    AND    THE    THIRD    CRUSADE.  335 

And  again  the  Christians  were  put  in  great  peril,  in  the  fol 
lowing  manner.  At  the  siege  of  Joppa  a  certain  depraved  set 
of  men  among  the  Saracens,  called  Menelones  of  Aleppo  and 
Cordivi,  an  active* race,  met  together  to  consult  what  should  be 
done  in  the  existing  state  of  things.  They  spoke  of  the  scandal 
which  lay  against  them,  that  so  small  an  army,  without  horses, 
had  driven  them  out  of  Joppa,  and  they  reproached  themselves 
with  cowardice  and  shameful  baseness,  and  arrogantly  made  a 
compact  among  themselves  that  they  would  seize  King  Richard 
in  his  tent,  and  bring  him  before  Saladin,  from  whom  they 
would  receive  a  most  munificent  reward. 

So  they  prepared  themselves  in  the  middle  of  the  night  to 
surprise  the  king,  and  sallied  forth  armed,  by  the  light  of  the 
moon,  conversing  with  one  another  about  the  object  they  had 
in  hand.  O  hateful  race  of  unbelievers !  they  are  anxiously 
bent  upon  seizing  Christ's  steadfast  soldier  while  he  is  asleep. 
They  rush  on  in  numbers  to  seize  him,  unarmed  and  appre 
hensive  of  no  danger.  They  were  not  far  from  his  tent,  and 
were  preparing  to  lay  hands  on  him,  when,  lo!  the  God  of 
mercy,  who  never  neglects  those  who  trust  in  Him,  and  acts  in 
a  wonderful  manner  even  to  those  who  know  Him  not,  sent 
the  spirit  of  discord  among  the  aforesaid  Cordivi  and  Mene 
lones.  The  Cordivi  said,  "You  shall  go  in  on  foot  to  take  the 
king  and  his  followers,  whilst  we  will  remain  on  horseback  to 
prevent  their  escaping  into  the  castle."  But  the  Menelones 
replied,  "  Nay,  it  is  your  place  to  go  in  on  foot,  because  our 
rank  is  higher  than  yours ;  but  this  service  on  foot  belongs  to 
you  rather  than  us."  Whilst  thus  the  two  parties  were  con 
tending  which  of  them  were  the  greatest,  their  combined  dis 
pute  caused  much  delay;  and  when  at  last  they  came  to  a 
decision  how  their  nefarious  attempt  should  be  achieved,  the 
dawn  of  the  day  appeared,  viz.,  the  Wednesday  next  following 
the  feast  of  St.  Peter  ad  vincula.  But  now  by  the  providence 
of  God.  who  had  decreed  that  his  holy  champion  should  not 
be  seized  whilst  asleep  by  the  infidels,  a  certain  Genoese  was 
led  by  the  divine  impulse  to  go  out  early  in  the  morning  into 
the  fields,  where  he  was  alarmed  by  the  noise  of  men  and 
horses  advancing,  and  returned  speedily,  but  just  had  time  to 


336  THE    KNIGHTS    OF    ENGLISH    HISTORY. 

see  helmets  reflecting  back  the  light  which  now  fell  upon  them. 
He  immediately  rushed  with  speed  into  the  camp,  calling  out, 
"To  arms!  to  arms!"  The  king  was  awakened  by  the  noise, 
and  leaping  startled  from  his  bed,  put  on  his  impenetrable  coat 
of  mail,  and  summoned  his  men  to  the  rescue. 

God  of  all  mercies!  lives  there  a  man  who  would  not  be 
shaken  by  such  a  sudden  alarm  ?  The  enemy  rushed  unawares, 
armed  against  unarmed,  many  against  few,  for  our  men  had  no 
time  to  arm  or  even  to  dress  themselves.  The  king  himself, 
therefore,  and  many  others  with  him,  on  the  urgency  of  the 
moment,  proceeded  without  their  cuishes  to  the  fight,  some 
even  without  their  breeches,  and  they  armed  themselves  in  the 
best  manner  they  could,  though  they  were  going  to  fight  the 
whole  day.  Whilst  our  men  were  thus  arming  in  haste,  the 
Turks  drew  near,  and  the  king  mounted  his  horse,  with  only 
ten  other  knights  with  him.  These  alone  had  horses,  and 
some  even  of  them  had  base  and  impotent  horses,  unused  to- 
arms ;  the  common  men  were  drawn  skilfully  out  in  ranks  and 
troops,  with  each  a  captain  to  command  them.  The  knights 
were  posted  nearer  to  the  sea,  having  the  church  of  St.  Nich 
olas  on  the  left,  because  the  Turks  had  directed  their  principal 
attack  on  that  quarter,  and  the  Pisans  and  Genoese  were  posted 
beyond  the  suburban  gardens,  having  other  troops  mingled 
with  them.  O  who  could  fully  relate  the  terrible  attacks  of 
the  infidels?  The  Turks  at  first  rushed  on  with  horrid  yells, 
hurling  their  javelins  and  shooting  their  arrows.  Our  men 
prepared  themselves  as  they  best  could  to  receive  their  furious 
attack,  each  fixing  his  right  knee  in  the  ground,  that  so  they 
might  the  better  hold  together  and  maintain  their  position ; 
whilst  there  the  thighs  of  their  left  legs  were  bent,  and  their 
left  hands  held  their  shields  or  bucklers  ;  stretched  out  before 
them  in  their  right  hands  they  held  their  lances,  of  which  the 
lowrer  ends  were  fixed  in  the  ground,  and  their  iron  heads 
pointed  threateningly  towards  the  enemy. 

Between  every  two  of  the  men  who  were  thus  covered  with 
their  shields,  the  king,  versed  in  arms,  placed  an  arbalester, 
and  another  behind  him  to  stretch  the  arbalest  as  quickly  as 
possible,  so  that  the  man  in  front  might  discharge  his  shot 


KING    RICHARD    AND    THE    THIRD    CRUSADE.  337 

whilst  the  other  was  loading.  This  was  found  to  be  of  much 
benefit  to  our  men,  and  did  much  harm  to  the  enemy.  Thus 
everything  was  prepared  as  wrell  as  the  shortness  of  the  time 
allowed,  and  our  little  army  was  drawn  up  in  order.  The 
king  ran  along  the  ranks,  and  exhorted  every  man  to  be  brave 
and  not  to  flinch.  "Courage,  my  brave  men,"  said  he;  "and 
let  not  the  attack  of  the  enemy  disturb  you.  Bear  up  against 
the  powers  of  fortune,  and  you  will  rise  above  them.  Every 
thing  may  be  borne  by  brave  men ;  adversity  sheds  a  light 
upon  the  virtues  of  mankind,  as  certainly  as  prosperity  casts- 
over  them  a  shade ;  there  is  no  room  for  flight,  for  the  enemy 
surround  us,  and  to  attempt  to  flee  is  to  provoke  certain  death. 
Be  brave,  therefore,  and  let  the  urgency  of  the  case  sharpen 
up  your  valor;  brave  men  should  either  conquer  nobly  or  glo 
riously  die.  Martyrdom  is  a  boon  which  we  should  receive 
with  willing  mind ;  but  before  we  die,  let  us,  whilst  still  alive, 
do  what  we  may  to  avenge  our  deaths,  giving  thanks  to  God 
that  it  has  been  our  lot  to  die  martyrs.  This  will  be  the  end 
of  our  labors,  the  termination  of  our  life  and  of  our  battles." 
These  words  were  hardly  spoken,  when  the  hostile  army  rushed 
with  ferocity  upon  them,  in  seven  troops,  each  of  which  con 
tained  about  a  thousand  horse.  Our  men  received  their  attack 
with  their  right  feet  planted  firm  against  the  sand,  and  re 
mained  immovable.  Their  lances  formed  a  wall  against  the 
enemy,  who  would  have  assuredly  broken  through,  if  our  men 
had  in  the  least  given  way. 

The  first  line  of  the  Turks,  perceiving,  as  they  advanced, 
that  our  men  stood  immovable,  recoiled  a  little,  when  our  men 
plied  them  with  a  shower  of  missiles,  slaying  large  numbers  of 
men  and  horses.  Another  line  of  Turks  at  once  came  on  in 
like  manner,  and  were  again  encountered  and  driven  back. 
In  this  way  the  Turks  came  on  like  a  whirlwind,  again  and 
again,  making  the  appearance  of  an  attack,  that  our  men  might 
be  induced  to  give  way,  and  when  they  were  close  up  they 
turned  their  horses  off  in  another  direction.  The  king  and  his 
knights,  who  were  on  horseback,  perceiving  this,  put  spurs  to 
their  horses,  and  charged  into  the  middle  of  the  enemy, 
upsetting  them  right  and  left,  and  piercing  a  large  number 


338  THE    KNIGHTS    OF    ENGLISH    HISTORY. 

through  the  body  with  their  lances;  at  last  they  pulled  up 
their  horses,  because  they  found  that  they  had  penetrated 
entirely  through  the  Turkish  lines.  The  king,  now  looking 
about  him,  saw  the  noble  earl  of  Leicester  fallen  from  his 
horse,  and  fighting  bravely  on  foot.  No  sooner  did  he  see  this, 
than  he  rushed  to  his  rescue,  snatched  him  out  of  the  hands  of 
the  enemy,  and  replaced  him  on  his  horse.  What  a  terrible 
combat  was  then  waged !  A  multitude  of  Turks  advanced, 
and  used  every  exertion  to  destroy  our  small  army ;  vexed  at 
our  success,  they  rushed  toward  the  royal  standard  of  the 
lion,  for  they  would  rather  have  slain  the  king  than  a  thou 
sand  others.  In  the  midst  of  the  melee  the  king  saw  Ralph 
de  Mauleon  dragged  off  prisoner  by  the  Turks,  and  spurring 
his  horse  to  speed,  in  a  moment  released  him  from  their  hands, 
and  restored  him  to  the  army;  for  the  king  was  a  very  giant 
in  the  battle,  and  was  everywhere  in  the  field,  —  now  here, 
now  there,  wherever  the  attacks  of  the  Turks  raged  the  hot 
test.  So  bravely  did  he  fight,  that  there  was  no  one,  however 
gallant,  that  would  not  readily  and  deservedly  yield  to  him 
the  pre-eminence.  On  that  day  he  performed  the  most  gallant 
deeds  on  the  furious  army  of  the  Turks,  and  slew  numbers 
with  his  sword,  which  shone  like' lightning;  some  of  them 
were  cloven  in  two,  from  their  helmet  to  their  teeth,  whilst 
others  lost  their  heads,  arms,  and  other  members,  which  were 
lopped  off  at  a  single  blow.  While  the  king  was  thus  laboring 
with  incredible  exertions  in  the  fight,  a  Turk  advanced  toward 
him,  mounted  on  a  foaming  steed.  He  had  been  sent  by  Sa- 
phadin  of  Archadia,  brother  to  Saladin,  a  liberal  and  munificent 
man,  if  he  had  not  rejected  the  Christian  faith.  This  man 
now  sent  to  the  king,  as  a  token  of  his  well-known  honorable 
character,  two  noble  horses,  requesting  him  earnestly  to  accept 
them,  and  make  use  of  them,  and  if  he  returned  safe  and 
sound  out  of  that  battle,  to  remember  the  gift  and  recompense 
it  in  any  manner  he  pleased.  The  king  readily  received  the 
present,  and  afterwards  nobly  recompensed  the  giver.  Such 
is  bravery,  cognizable  even  in  an  enemy ;  since  a  Turk,  who 
was  our  bitter  foe,  thus  honored  the  king  for  his  distinguished 
valor.  The  king,  especially  at  such  a  moment  of  need,  pro- 


KING    RICHARD    AND    THE    THIRD    CRUSADE.  339" 

tested  that  he  would  have  taken  any  number  of  horses  equally 
good  from  any  one  even  more  a  foe  than  Saphadin,  so  neces 
sary  were  they  to  him  at  that  moment.  Fierce  now  raged  the 
fight,  when  suck  numbers  attacked  so  few ;  the  whole  earth 
was  covered  with  the  javelifls  and  arrows  of  the  unbelievers; 
they  threw  them,  several  at  a  time,  at  our  men,  of  whom  many 
were  wounded.  Thus  the  weight  of  battle  fell  heavier  upon 
us  than  before,  and  the  galley-men  withdrew  in  the  galleys 
which  brought  them  ;  and  so,  in  their  anxiety  to  be  safe,  they 
sacrificed  their  character  for  bravery.  Meanwhile  a  shout  was 
raised  by  the  Turks,  as  they  strove  who  should  first  occupy  the 
town,  hoping  to  slay  those  of  our  men  whom  they  should  find 
within.  The  king,  hearing  the  clamor,  taking  with  him  only 
two  knights  and  two  crossbow-men,  met  three  Turks,  nobly 
caparisoned,  in  one  of  the  principal  streets.  Rushing  bravely 
upon  them,  he  slew  the  riders  in  his  own  royal  fashion,  and 
made  booty  of  two  horses.  The  rest  of  the  Turks  who  were 
found  in  the  town  were  put  to  the  rout  in  spite  of  their  resist 
ance,  and  dispersing  in  different  directions,  sought  to  make 
their  escape,  evan  where  there  was  no  regular  road.  The  king 
also  commanded  the  parts  of  the  walls  which  were  broken 
down  to  be  made  good,  and  placed  sentinels  to  keep  watch  lest 
the  town  should  be  again  attacked. 

These  matters  settled,  the  king  went  down  to  the  shore, 
where  many  of  our  men  had  taken  refuge  on  board  the  galleys. 
These  the  king  exhorted  by  the  most  cogent  arguments  to  re 
turn  to  the  battle,  and  share  with  the  rest  whatever  might 
befall  them.  Leaving  five  men  as  guards  on  board  each  galley, 
the  king  led  back  the  rest  to  assist  his  hard-pressed  army ;  and 
he  no  sooner  arrived  than  with  all  his  fury  he  fell  upon  the 
thickest  ranks  of  the  enemy,  driving  them  back  and  routing 
them,  so  that  even  those  who  were  at  a  distance  and  untouched 
by  him  were  overwhelmed  by  the  throng  of  the  troops  as  they 
retreated.  Never  was  there  such  an  attack  made  by  an  indi 
vidual.  He  pierced  into  the  middle  of  the  hostile  army,  and 
performed  the  deeds  of  a  brave  and  distinguished  warrior. 
The  Turks  at  once  closed  upon  him,  and  tried  to  overwhelm 
him.  In  the  meantime  our  men,  losing  sight  of  the  king,  were 


340  THE    KNIGHTS    OF    ENGLISH    HISTORY. 

fearful  lest  he  should  have  been  slain,  and  when  one  of  them 
proposed  that  they  should  advance  to  find  him,  our  lines  could 
hardly  contain  themselves.  But  if  by  any  chance  the  disposi 
tion  of  our  troops  had  been  broken,  without  doubt  they  would 
all  have  been  destroyed.  What,  however,  was  to  be  thought 
of  the  king,  who  was  hemmed  in  by  the  enemy,  a  single  man 
opposed  to  so  many  thousands?  The  hand  of  the  writer  faints 
to  see  it,  and  the  mind  of  the  reader  to  hear  it.  Who  ever 
heard  of  such  a  man  ?  His  bravery  was  ever  of  the  highest 
order,  no  adverse  storm  could  sink  it ;  his  valor  was  ever 
becoming,  and  if  we  may  from  a  few  instances  judge  of  many, 
it  was  ever  indefatigable  in  war.  Why  then  do  we  speak  of 
the  valor  of  Antaeus,  who  regained  his  strength  every  time  he 
touched  his  mother  earth,  for  Anta3us  perished  when  he  was 
lifted  up  from  earth  in  the  long  wrestling  match.  The  body 
of  Achilles  also,  who  slew  Hector,  was  invulnerable,  because 
he  was  dipped  in  the  Stygian  waves ;  yet  Achilles  was  mortally 
wounded  in  the  very  part  by  which  he  was  held  when  they 
dipped  him.  Likewise  Alexander,  the  Macedonian,  who  was 
stimulated  by  ambition  to  subjugate  the  whole  world,  under 
took  a  most  difficult  enterprise,  and  with  a  handful  of  choice 
soldiers  fought  many  celebrated  battles,  but  the  chief  part  of 
his  valor  consisted  of  the  excellence  of  his  soldiers.  In  the 
same  manner  the  brave  Judas  Maccabeus,  of  whom  all  the 
world  discoursed,  performed  many  wonderful  deeds  worthy 
forever  to  be  remembered,  but  when  he  was  abandoned  by  his 
soldiers  in  the  midst  of  a  battle,  with  thousands  of  enemies  to 
oppose  him,  he  was  slain,  together  with  his  brothers.  But 
King  Richard,  inured  to  battle  from  his  tenderest  years,  and 
to  whom  even  famous  Roland  could  not  be  considered  equal, 
remained  invincible,  even  in  the  midst  of  the  enemy;  and  his 
body,  as  if  it  were  made  of  brass,  was  impenetrable  to  any 
kind  of  weapon.  In  his  right  hand  he  brandished  his  sword, 
which  in  its  rapid  descent  broke  the  ranks  on  either  side  of 
him.  Such  was  his  energy  amid  that  host  of  Turks  that,  fear 
ing  nothing,  he  destroyed  all  around  him,  mowing  men  down 
with  his  scythe  as  reapers  mow  down  the  corn  with  their 
sickles.  Who  could  describe  his  deeds?  Whoever  felt  one  of 


KING    RICHARD    AND    THE    THIRD    CRUSADE.  341 

his  blows  had  no  need  of  a  second.  Such  was  the  energy  of 
liis  courage  that  it  seemed  to  rejoice  at  having  found  an  occa 
sion  to  display  itself.  The  sword  wielded  by  his  powerful 
hand  cut  down  men  and  horses  alike,  cleaving  them  to  the  mid 
dle.  The  more  he  was  himself  separated  from  his  men,  and 
the  more  the  enemy  sought  to  overwhelm  him,  the  more  did 
his  valor  shine  conspicuous.  Among  other  brave  deeds  which 
he  performed  on  that  occasion  he  slew  by  one  marvellous  stroke 
an  admiral,  who  was  conspicuous  above  the  rest  of  the  enemy 
by  his  rich  caparisons.  This  man  by  his  gestures  seemed  to 
say  that  he  was  going  to  do  something  wonderful,  and  whilst 
he  reproached  the  rest  with  cowardice  he  put  spurs  to  his  horse 
and  charged  full  against  the  king,  who,  waving  his  sword  as 
he  saw  him  coming,  smote  off  at  a  single  blow  not  only  his 
head,  but  his  shoulder  and  right  arm.  The  Turks  were  terror- 
struck  at  the  sight,  and,  giving  way  on  all  sides,  scarcely  dared 
to  shoot  at  him  from  a  distance  with  their  arrows. 

The  king  now  returned  safe  and  unhurt  to  his  friends,  and 
encouraged  them  more  than  ever  with  the  hope  of  victory. 
How  were  their  minds  raised  from  despair  when  they  saw  him 
coming  safe  out  of  the  enemy's  ranks  !  They  knew  not  what 
had  happened  to  him,  but  they  knew  that  without  him  all  the 
hopes  of  the  Christian  army  would  be  in  vain.  The  king's 
person  was  stuck  all  over  with  javelins,  like  a  deer  pierced  by 
the  hunters,  and  the  trappings  of  his  horse  were  thickly  cov 
ered  with  arrows.  Thus,  like  a  brave  soldier,  he  returned  from 
the  contest,  and  a  bitter  contest  it  was,  for  it  had  lasted  from 
the  morning  sun  to  the  setting  sun.  It  may  seem  wonderful 
and  even  incredible,  that  so  small  a  body  of  men  endured  so 
long  a  conflict ;  but  by  God's  mercy  we  cannot  doubt  the  truth 
of  it,  for  in  that  battle  only  one  or  two  of  our  men  were  slain. 
But  the  number  of  the  Turkish  horses  that  lay  dead  on  the 
field  is  said  to  have  exceeded  fifteen  hundred  ;  and  of  the  Turks 
themselves  more  than  seven  hundred  were  killed,  and  yet  they 
did  not  carry  back  King  Richard,  as  they  had  boasted,  as  a 
present  to  Saladin  ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  he  and  his  horse  per 
formed  so  many  deeds  of  valor  in  the  sight  of  the  Turks  that 
the  enemy  shuddered  to  behold  him. 


342  THE    KNIGHTS    OF    ENGLISH    HISTORY. 

In  the  meantime  our  men  having  by  God's  grace  escaped  de 
struction,  the  Turkish  army  returned  to  Saladin,  who  is  said  to 
have  ridiculed  them  by  asking  where  Melech  Richard  was,  for 
they  had  promised  to  bring  him  a  prisoner?  "  Which  of  you," 
continued  he,  "first  seized  him,  and  where  is  lie?  Why  is  he 
not  produced  ?  "  To  whom  one  of  the  Turks  that  came  from 
the  furthest  countries  of  the  earth  replied,  "In  truth,  my  lord, 
Melech  Richard,  about  whom  you  ask,  is  not  here ;  we  have 
never  heard  since  the  beginning  of  the  world  that  there  ever 
was  such  a  knight,  so  brave  and  so  experienced  in  arms.  In 
every  deed  of  arms  he  is  ever  the  foremost ;  in  deeds  he  is 
without  a  rival,  the  first  to  advance  and  the  last  to  retreat;  we 
did  our  best  to  seize  him,  but  in  vain,  for  no  man  can  escape 
from  his  sword  ;  his  attack  is  dreadful ;  to  engage  with  him  is 
fatal,  and  his  deeds  are  beyond  human  nature." 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

ROBIN  HOOD  OF  SHERWOOD  FOREST. 

In  this  our  spacious  isle  I  think  there  is  not  one, 
But  he  of  ROBIN  HOOD  hath  heard  and  Little  John ; 
And  to  the  end  of  time  the  tales  shall  ne'er  be  done 
Of  Scarlock,  George  a  Green,  and  Much  the  miller's  son, 
Of  Tuck,  the  merry  friar,  which  many  a  sermon  made 
In  praise  of  ROBIN  HOOD,  his  outlaws  and  their  trade. 

DRAYTON. 

I^VERY  reader  of  "  Ivanhoe,"  at  the  mention  of  Richard 
-f-J  the  Crusader,  will  be  reminded  of  Robin  Hood,  the  noble 
outlaw  of  Sherwood  Forest,  and  his  band  of  merry  bowmen. 
With  these  we  next  concern  ourselves,  and  if  the  reader  will 
pardon  the  dry  outlines  of  the  historian  before  proceeding  to 
'  the  more  interesting  and  imaginative  story  of  the  ballad- 
singer,  we  will  at  first  state  what  so  careful  an  antiquary  as 
Mr.  Ritson  considers  to  be  truly  trustworthy  in  Robin  Hood's 
history. 

Robin  Hood  was  born  at  Locksley,  in  the  county  of  Notting 
ham,  in  the  reign  of  King  Henry  II.,  and  about  the  year  of 

343 


344  THE    KNIGHTS    OF   ENGLISH    HISTORY. 

Christ  1160.  His  extraction  was  noble,  and  his  true  name 
Robert  Fitzooth,  which  vulgar  pronunciation  easily  corrupted 
into  Robin  Hood.  He  is  frequently  styled,  and  commonly  re 
puted  to  have  been,  Earl  of  Huntingdon ;  a  title  to  which,  in 
the  latter  part  of  his  life  at  least,  he  actually  appears  to  have 
had  some  sort  of  pretension.  In  his  youth  he  is  reported  to 
have  been  of  a  wild  and  extravagant  disposition,  insomuch 
that,  his  inheritance  being  consumed  or  forfeited  by  his  ex 
cesses,  and  his  person  outlawed  for  debt,  either  from  necessity 
or  choice  he  sought  an  asylum  in  the  woods  and  forests,  with 
which  immense  tracts,  especially  in  the  northern  part  of  the 
kingdom,  were  at  that  time  covered.  Of  these  he  chiefly  af 
fected  Barnsdale,  in  Yorkshire  ;  Sherwood  in  Nottinghamshire, 
and,  according  to  some,  Plompton  Park  in  Cumberland.  Here 
he  either  found  or  was  afterwards  joined  by  a  number  of  per 
sons  in  similar  circumstances,  who  appear  to  have  considered 
and  obeyed  him  as  their  chief  or  leader.  .  .  .  Having  for  a 
long  series  of  years  maintained  a  sort  of  independent  sover 
eignty,  and  set  kings,  judges,  and  magistrates  at  defiance,  a 
proclamation  was  published,  offering  a  considerable  reward  for 
bringing  him  in  either  dead  or  alive  ;  which,  however,  seems 
to  have  been  productive  of  no  greater  success  than  former  at 
tempts  for  that  purpose.  At  length  the  infirmities  of  old  age 
increasing  upon  him,  and  desirous  to  be  relieved,  in  a  fit  of 
sickness,  by  being  let  blood,  he  applied  for  that  purpose  to  the 
prioress  of  Kirkley  nunnery  in  Yorkshire,  his  relative  (women, 
and  particularly  religious  women,  being  in  those  times  some 
what  better  skilled  in  surgery  than  the  sex  is  at  present),  by 
whom  he  was  treacherously  suffered  to  bleed  to  death.  This 
event  happened  on  the  18th  November,  1247,  being  the  thirty- 
first  year  of  King  Henry  III. ;  and  if  the  date  assigned  to  his 
birth  be  correct,  about  the  eighty-seventh  year  of  his  age.  He 
was  interred  under  some  trees  at  a  short  distance  from  the 
house  ;  a  stone  being  placed  over  his  grave,  with  an  inscription 
to  his  memory. 

There  are  some  who  will  have  it  that  Robin  Hood  was  not 
alive  in  the  reign  of  Richard  I.,  and  who  will  have  it  that 
he  preferred  other  forests  to  Sherwood.  But  the  stories  that 


KOBIN    HOOD    OF    SHERWOOD    FOREST.  345 

we  have  chosen  are  of  the  Robin  Hood  of  Sherwood  Forest 
and  of  King  Richard  the  Lion-hearted. 

LITTLE  JOHN. 

The  lieutenant  of  Robin  Hood's  band  was  named  Little 
John,  not  so  much  from  his  smallness  in  stature  (for  he  was 
seven  feet  high  and  more),  as  for  a  reason  which  I  shall  tell 
later.  And  the  manner  in  which  Robin  Hood,  to  whom  he  was 
very  dear,  met  him  was  this. 

Robin  Hood  on  one  occasion  being  hunting  with  his  men  and 
finding  the  sport  to  be  poor,  said  :  "  We  have  had  no  sport  now 
for  some  time.  So  I  go  abroad  alone.  And  if  I  should  fall 
into  any  peril  whence  I  cannot  escape  I  will  blow  my  horn  that 
ye  may  know  of  it  and  bear  me  aid."  And  with  that  he  bade 
them  adieu  and  departed  alone,  having  with  him  his  bow  and 
the  arrows  in  his  quiver.  And  passing  shortly  over  a  brook 
by  a  long  bridge  he  met  at  the  middle  a  stranger.  And  neither 
of  the  two  would  give  way  to  the  other.  And  Robin  Hood 
being  angry  fitted  an  arrow  to  his  bow  and  made  ready  to  fire. 
"  Truly,"  said  the  stranger  at  this,  "  thou  art  a  fine  fellow  that 
you  must  draw  your  long  bow  on  me  who  have  but  a  staff  by 
me."  "That  is  just  truly,"  said  Robin;  "and  so  I  will  lay 
by  my  bow  and  get  me  a  staff  to  try  if  your  deeds  be  as  good 
as  your  words."  And  with  that  he  went  into  a  thicket  and 
chose  him  a  small  ground  oak  for  a  staff  and  returned  to  the 
stranger. 

"Now,"  said  he,  "  I  am  a  match  for  you,  so  let  us  play  upon 
this  bridge,  and  if  one  should  fall  in  the  stream  the  other  will 
have  the  victory."  "With  all  my  heart,"  said  the  stranger  ;  "I 
shall  not  be  the  first  to  give  out."  And  with  that  they  began 
to  make  great  play  with  their  staves.  And  Robin  Hood  first 
struck  the  stranger  such  a  blow  as  warmed  all  his  blood,  and 
from  that  they  rattled  their  sticks  as  though  they  had  been 
threshing  corn.  And  finally  the  stranger  gave  Robin  such  a 
crack  on  his  crown  that  he  broke  his  head  and  the  blood  flowed. 
But  this  only  urged  him  the  more,  so  that  he  attacked  the 
stranger  with  such  vigor  that  he  had  like  to  have  made  an  end 


346  THE    KNIGHTS    OF    ENGLISH    HISTORY. 

of  him.  But  he  growing  into  a  fury  finally  fetched  him  sucli 
a  blow  that  he  tumbled  him  from  the  bridge  into  the  brook. 
Whereat  the  stranger  laughed  loudly  and  long,  and  cried  out  to 
him,  "  Where  art  thou  now,  I  prythee,  my  good  fellow  ?  "  And 
Robin  replied,  "  Thou  art  truly  a  brave  soul,  and  I  will  have 
no  more  to  do  with  thee  to-day;  so  our  battle  is  at  an  end,  and 
I  must  allow  that  thou  hast  won  the  day."  And  then  \vading  to 
the  bank  he  pulled  out  his  horn  and  blew  a  blast  on  it  so  th.it 
the  echoes  flew  throughout  the  valley.  And  at  that  came  fifty 
bold  bowmen  out  of  the  wood,  all  clad  in  green,  and  they  made 
for  Robin  Hood,  and  said  William  Stukely,  "  What  is  the  mat 
ter,  my  master  ?  you  are  wet  to  the  skin  ?  "  "  Truly,  nothing  is 
the  matter,"  said  Robin,  "  but  that  the  lad  on  the  bridge  has 
tumbled  me  into  the  stream."  And  on  that  the  archers  would 
have  seized  the  stranger  to  duck  him  as  well,  but  Robin  Hood 
forbade  them.  "No  one  shall  harm  thee,  friend,"  said  he. 
"These  are  all  my  bowmen,  threescore  and  nine,  and  if  you 
will  be  one  of  us  you  shall  straightway  have  my  livery  and  ac 
coutrements,  fit  for  a  man.  What  say  you  ?"  "With  all  my 
heart,"  said  the  stranger  ;  "here  is  my  hand  on  it.  My  name 
is  John  Little,  and  I  will  be  a  good  man  and  true  to  you." 
"His  name  shall  be  changed,"  said  William  Stukely  on  this. 
"We  will  call  him  Little  John,  and  I  will  be  his  godfather." 

So  they  fetched  a  pair  of  fat  does  and  some  humming  strong 
ale,  and  there  they  christened  their  babe  Little  John,  for  he 
was  seven  feet  high  and  an  ell  round  at  his  waist. 

FRIAR  TUCK. 

Now  Robin  Hood  had  instituted  a  day  of  mirth  for  himself 
and  all  his  companions,  and  wagers  were  laid  amongst  them 
who  should  exceed  at  this  exercise  and  who  at  that ;  some 
did  contend  who  should  jump  farthest,  some  who  should 
throw  the  bar,  some  who  should  be  swiftest  afoot  in  a  race  five 
miles  in  length  ;  others  there  were  with  which  Little  John  was 
most  delighted,  who  did  strive  which  of  them  should  draw 
the  strongest  bow,  and  be  the  best  marksman.  "  Let  me  see," 
said  Little  John,  "  which  of  you  can  kill  a  buck,  and  who  can 


ROBIN    HOOD    OF    SHERWOOD    FOREST.  347 

kill  a  doe,  and  who  is  he  can  kill  a  hart,  being  distant  from  it 
by  the  space  of  five  hundred  feet."  With  that,  Robin  Hood 
going  before  them,  they  went  directly  to  the  forest,  where 
they  found  good  store  of  game  feeding  before  them.  Wil 
liam  Scarlock,  that  drew  the'*' strongest  bow  of  them  all,  did 
kill  a  buck,  and  Little  John  made  choice  of  a  barren  fat  doe, 
and  the  well-directed  arrow  did  enter  in  the  very  heart  of  it; 
and  Midge,  the  miller's  son,  did  kill  a  hart  above  five  hundred 
feet  distant  from  him.  The  hart  falling,  Robin  Hood  stroked 
him  gently  on  the  shoulder,  and  said  unto  him,  "  God's  blessing 
on  thy  heart,  I  will  ride  five  hundred  miles  to  find  a  match  for 
thee."  William  Scarlock,  hearing  him  speak  these  words, 
smiled  and  said  unto  him,  "Master,  what  needs  that?  Here 
is  a  Curtal  Friar*  not  far  off,  that  for  a  hundred  pound  will 
shoot  at  what  distance  yourself  will  propound,  either  with 
Midge  or  with  yourself.  An  experienced  man  he  is,  and  will 
draw  a  bow  with  great  strength ;  he  will  shoot  with  yourself, 
and  with  all  the  men  you  have,  one  after  another." 

"  Sayest  thou  so,  Scarlock?"  replied  Robin  Hood.  "By 
the  grace  of  God  I  will  neither  cat  nor  drink  till  I  see  this 
Friar  thou  dost  speak  of."  And  having  prepared  himself  for 
his  journey,  he  took  Little  John  and  fifty  of  his  best  archers 
with  him,  whom  he  bestowed  in  a  convenient  place,  as  he  him 
self  thought  fitting.  This  being  done,  he  ran  down  into  the 
dale,  where  he  found  the  Curtal  Friar  walking  by  the  water 
side.  He  no  sooner  espied  him,  but  presently  he  took  unto 
him  his  broadsword  and  buckler,  and  put  on  his  head  a  steel 
bonnet.  The  Friar,  not  knowing  who  he  was,  or  for  what 
intent  he  came,  did  presently  arm  himself  to  encounter  with 
him.  Robin  Hood,  coming  near  unto  him,  alighted  from  his 
horse,  which  he  tied  to  a  thorn  that  grew  hard  by,  and  looking 
wistfully  on  the  Friar,  said  unto  him,  "  Carry  me  over  the  water, 
thou  Curtal  Friar,  or  else  thy  life  lies  at  the  stake."  The 

*  "The  Curtal  Friar,"  Dr.  Stukely  says,  "is  Cordelier,  from  the  cord  or  rope 
which  they  wore  round  their  waist,  to  whip  themselves  with.  Thev  were,"  adds 
he,  "  of  the  Franciscan  order.  Our  Friar,  however,  is  undoubtedly  so  called 
from  his  Curtal  dogs,  or  curs,  as  we  now  say."  Thorns.  Early  Prose  Romances: 
in  which,  by  the  way,  may  be  found  many  of  the  tales  of  Robin  Hood  printed 
here,  and  much  more  beside  of  interest. 


348  THE    KNIGHTS    OF    ENGLISH    HISTORY. 

Friar  made  no  more  ado,  but  took  up  Robin  Hood  and  carried 
him  on  his  back  ;  deep  water  he  did  stride ;  he  spake  not  so 
much  as  one  word  to  him,  but  having  carried  him  over,  he 
gently  laid  him  down  on  the  side  of  the  bank ;  which  being- 
done,  the  Friar  said  to  Robin  Hood,  "  It  is  now  thy  turn ; 
therefore  carry  me  over  the  water,  thou  bold  fellow,  or  sure  I 
shall  make  thee  repent  it."  Robin  Hood,  to  requite  the  cour 
tesy,  took  the  Friar  on  his  back,  and  not  speaking  the  least 
word  to  him,  carried  him  over  the  water,  and  laid  him  gently 
down  on  the  side  of  the  bank;  and  turning  to  him,  he  spake 
unto  him  as  at  first,  and  bade  him  carry  him  over  the  water 
once  more,  or  he  should  answer  it  with  the  forfeit  of  his  life. 
The  Friar  in  a  smiling  manner  took  him  up,  and  spake  not  a 
word  till  he  came  in  the  midst  of  the  stream,  when,  being  up 
to  the  middle  and  higher,  he  did  shake  him  from  off  his  shoul 
ders,  and  said  unto  him,  "Now  choose  thee,  bold  fellow, 
whether  thou  wilt  sink  or  swim." 

Robin  Hood,  being  soundly  washed,  got  him  up  on  his  feet, 
and  prostrating  himself,  did  swim  to  a  bush  of  broom  on  the 
other  side  of  the  bank ;  and  the  Friar  swam  to  a  willow  tree 
which  was  not  far  from  it.  Then  Robin  Hood,  taking  his  bow 
in  his  hand,  and  one  of  his  best  arrows,  did  shoot  at  the  Friar, 
which  the  Friar  received  in  his  buckler  of  steel,  and  said  unto 
him,  "  Shoot  on,  thou  bold  fellow ;  if  thou  shootest  at  me  a 
whole  summer's  day  I  will  stand  your  mark  still."  "That  will 
I,"  said  Robin  Hood,  and  shot  arrow  after  arrow  at  him,  until 
he  had  not  an  arrow  left  in  his  quiver.  He  then  laid  down  his 
bow,  and  drew  out  his  sword,  which  but  two  days  before  had 
been  the  death  of  three  men.  Now  hand  to  hand  they  went 
with  sword  and  buckler ;  the  steel  buckler  defends  whatsoever 
blow  is  given ;  sometimes  they  make  at  the  head,  sometimes  at 
the  foot,  sometimes  at  the  side ;  sometimes  they  strike  directly 
down,  sometimes  they  falsify  their  blows,  and  come  in  foot 
and  arm,  with  a  free  thrust  at  the  body ;  and  being  ashamed 
that  so  long  they  exercise  their  unprofitable  valor  and  cannot 
hurt  one  another,  they  multiply  their  blows,  they  hack,  they 
hew,  they  slash,  they  foam.  At  last  Robin  Hood  desired  the 
Eriar  to  hold  his  hand,  and  to  give  him  leave  to  blow  his  horn. 


ROBIN    HOOD    OF    SHERWOOD    FOREST.  349 

"  Thou  wantest  breath  to  sound  it,"  said  the  Friar ;  "  take 
thee  a  little  respite,  for  we  have  been  five  hours  at  it  by  the 
Fountain  Abbey  clock."  Robin  Hood  took  his  horn  from  his 
side,  and  having  bounded  it  three  times,  behold  where  fifty 
lusty  men,  with  their  bendevd  bows,  came  to  his  assistance. 
The  Friar,  wondering  at  it,  "Whose  men,"  said  he,  "be 
these?"  "They  are  mine,"  said  Robin  Hood;  "what  is  that 
to  thee  ?  "  "  False  loon,"  said  the  Friar  ;  and  making  a  little 
pause,  he  desired  Robin  Hood  to  show  him  the  same  courtesy 
which  he  gave  him.  "What  is  that?"  said  Robin  Hood. 
"  Thou  soundest  thy  horn  three  times,"  said  the  Friar ;  "  let 
me  now  but  whistle  three  times."  "  Ay,  with  all  my  heart," 
said  Robin  Hood ;  "  I  were  to  blame  if  I  should  deny  thee  that 
courtesy."  With  that  the  Friar  set  his  fist  to  his  mouth,  and 
whistled  three  times  so  shrilly  that  the  place  echoed  again 
with  it ;  and  behold  three  and  fifty  fair  ban-dogs  (their  hairs 
rising  on  their  back,  betokening  their  rage),  were  almost  on 
the  backs  of  Robin  Hood  and  his  companions.  "  Here  is  for 
every  one  of  thy  men  a  dog,"  said  the  Friar,  "and  two  for 
thee."  "  That  is  foul  play,"  said  Robin  Hood.  He  had  scarce 
spoken  that  word  but  two  dogs  came  upon  him  at  once,  one 
before,  another  behind  him,  who,  although  they  could  not 
touch  his  flesh  (his  s\vord  had  made  so  swift  a  despatch  of 
them),  yet  they  tore  his  coat  into  two  pieces.  By  this  time 
the  men  had  so  laid  about  them  that  the  dogs  began  to  fly 
back,  and  their  fury  to  languish  into  barking.  Little  John  did 
so  bestir  himself,  that  the  Curtal  Friar,  admiring  at  his  courage 
and  his  nimbleness,  did  ask  him  who  he  was.  He  made  him 
answer,  "I  will  tell  the  truth,  and  not  lie.  I  am  he  who  is 
called  Little  John,  and  do  belong  to  Robin  Hood,  who  hath 
fought  with  thee  this  day,  five  hours  together;  and  if  thou 
wilt  not  submit  unto  him,  this  arrow  shall  make  thee."  The 
Friar,  perceiving  how  much  he  was  overpowered,  and  that  it 
was  impossible  for  him  to  deal  with  so  many  at  once,  did  come 
to  composition  with  Robin  Hood.  And  the  articles  of  agree 
ment  were  these:  That  the  Friar  should  abandon  Fountain 
Dale  and  Fountain  Abbey,  and  should  live  with  Robin  Hood, 
at  his  place  not  far  from  Nottingham,  where  for  saying  of 


350  THE    KNIGHTS    OF    ENGLISH    HISTORY. 

mass,  he  should  receive  a  noble  for  every  Sunday  throughout 
the  year,  and  for  saying  mass  on  every  holy  day,  a  new  change 
of  garment.  The  Friar,  contented  with  these  conditions,  did 
seal  the  agreement.  And  thus  by  the  courage  of  Robin 
Hood  and  his  yeomen,  he  was  enforced  at  the  last  to  submit, 
having  for  seven  long  years  kept  Fountain  Dale,  not  all  the 
power  thereabouts  being  able  to  bring  him  on  his  knees. 

But  Friar  Tuck  was  the  only  man  of  the  clergy  with  whom 
Robin  had  friendly  dealings.  As  a  rule  these  churchmen  fared 
as  did  the  Bishop  of  Hereford  in  the  following  ballad,  which 
we  add  for  the  sake  of  an  example  of  the  manner  in  which  this 
True  History  of  Robin  Hood  has  come  down  to  us  from  the 
year  1245:  — 

THE  BISHOP  OF  HEREFORD'S  ENTERTAINMENT  BY  ROBIN 
HOOD  AND  LITTLE  JOHN  AND  THEIR  COMPANY,  IN  MERRY 
BARNSDALE. 

SOME  they  will  talk  of  bold  Robin  Hood, 

And  some  of  barons  bold ; 
But  I'll  tell  you  how  he  served  the  Bishop  of  Hereford, 

When  he  robbed  him  of  his  gold. 

As  it  befell  in  merry  Barnsdale, 

All  under  the  greenwood  tree, 
The  Bishop  of  Hereford  was  to  come  by, 

With  all  his  company. 

"Come,  kill  me  a  venison,"  said  bold  Robin  Hood, 

"  And  dress  it  by  the  highway  side, 
And  we  will  watch  the  bishop  narrowly, 

Lest  some  other  way  he  should  ride." 

Robin  Hood  dressed  himself  in  shepherd's  attire, 

With  six  of  his  men  also; 
And,  when  the  Bishop  of  Hereford  came  by, 

They  about  the  fire  did  go. 

"  0,  what  is  the  matter  ?  "  then  said  the  bishop, 

"  Or  for  whom  do  you  make  this  ado  ? 
Or  why  do  you  kill  the  king's  ven'son, 

When  your  company  is  so  few  ?  " 

"We  are  shepherds,"  said  bold  Robin  Hood, 

"And  we  keep  sheep  all  the  year; 
And  we  are  disposed  to  be  merry  this  day, 

And  to  kill  of  the  king's  fat  deer." 


ROBIN  HOOD  OF  SHERWOOD  FOREST.  351 

"  You  are  brave  fellows,"  said  the  bishop, 

"  And  the  king  of  your  doings  shall  know ; 
Therefore  make  haste,  and  come  along  with  me, 

For  before  the  king  you  shall  go." 

% 
"  O  pardon,  O  pardpn,"  said  bold  Robin  Hood, 

"  O  pardon,  I  thee  pray; 
For  it  becomes  not  your  lordship's  coat 

To  take  so  many  lives  away." 

"  No  pardon,  no  pardon,"  said  the  bishop, 

"  No  pardon  I  thec  owe  ; 
Therefor  j  make  haste,  and  come  along  with  me, 

For  before  the  king  you  shall  go." 

Then  Robin  he  set  his  back  against  a  tree, 

And  his  foot  against  a  thorn, 
And  from  underneath  his  shepherd's  coat 

He  pulled  out  a  bugle  horn. 

He  put  the  little  end  to  his  mouth, 

And  a  loud  blast  did  he  blow, 
Till  threescore  and  ten  of  bold  Robin's  men 

Came  running  all  in  a  row  : 

All  making  obeisance  to  bold  Robin  Hood  ; 

'Twas  a  comely  sight  for  to  see. 
"  What  is  the  matter,  master,"  said  Little  John, 

•'  That  you  blow  so  lustily  ?  " 

"  O  here  is  the  Bishop  of  Hereford, 

And  no  pardon  we  shall  have." 
"  Cut  off  his  head,  master,"  said  Little  John, 

"  And  throw  him  into  his  grave." 

"  O  pardon,  O  pardon,"  said  the  bishop, 

"  0  pardon,  I  thee  pray ; 
For  if  I  had  known  it  had  been  you, 

I'd  have  gone  some  other  way." 

"  No  pardon,  no  pardon,"  said  bold  Robin  Hood, 

"  No  pardon  I  thee  owe ; 
Therefore  make  haste,  and  come  along  with  me, 

For  to  merry  Barnsdale  you  shall  go." 

Then  Robin  he  took  the  bishop  bv  the  hand, 

And  led  him  to  merry  Barnsdale; 
He  made  him  stay  and  sup  with  him  that  night, 

And  to  drink  wine,  beer,  and  alfi. 


352  THE    KNIGHTS    OF    ENGLISH    HISTORY. 

"  Call  in  a  reckoning,"  said  the  bishop, 
"  For  inethinks  it  grows  wondrous  high." 

"  Send  me  your  purse,  master,"  said  Little  John, 
"  And  I'll  tell  you  bye  and  bye." 

Then  Little  John  took  the  bishop's  cloak, 

And  spread  it  upon  the  ground, 
And  out  of  the  bishop's  portmantua 

He  told  three  hundred  pound. 

"  Here's  money  enough,  master,"  said  Little  John, 
"  And  a  comely  sight  'tis  to  see ; 

It  makes  me  in  charity  with  the  bishop, 
Though  he  heartily  loveth  not  me." 

Robin  Hood  took  the  bishop  by  the  hand, 
And  he  caused  the  music  to  play ; 

And  he  made  the  old  bishop  to  dance  in  his  boots, 
And  glad  to  get  so  away. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

ROBIN  HOOD  AND  HIS  ADVENTURES. 

"  They  say  he  is  already  in  the  forest  of  Arclen,  and  a  many  merry  men  with 
him;  and  there  they  live  like  the  old  Robin  Hood  of  England  .  .  .  and  fleet  the 
time  carelessly  as  they  did  in  the  golden  world." — As  You  LIKE  IT. 

AS  has  been  already  said,  some  of  the  ballad  makers  have 
so  far  erred  from  the  truth  as  to  represent  Robin  Hood 
as  being  outlawed  by  Henry  VIII.,  and  several  stories  are  told 
of    Queen  Katherine's  interceding  with  her  husband  for  the 
pardon  of  the   bold  outlaw.*       However   this  may  be,  it  is 

*  This  seems  to  have  been  the  opinion  of  the  author  from  whom  we  draw  the 
following  account  of  our  hero's  life,  —  to  show  how  the  doctors  will  disagree  even 
on  a  topic  as  important  as  Robin  Hood  :  — 

THE  NOBLE  BIRTH  AND  THE  ACHIEVEMENTS  OF  ROBIN  HOOD. 
"Robin  Hood  was  descended  from  the  noble  family  of  the  Earl  of  Huntingdon, 
and  being  outlawed  by  Henry  VIII.  for  many  extravagancies  and  outrages  he  had 
committed,  he  did  draw  together  a  company  of  such  bold  and  licentious  persons  as 
himself,  who  lived  for  the  most  part  on  robberies  committed  in  or  near  unto  Sher 
wood  Forest  in  Nottinghamshire.  He  had  these  always  ready  at  his  command,  so  that 
if  need  did  require  he  at  the  winding  of  his  horn  would  have  fifty  or  more  of  them  in 

353 


354  THE    KNIGHTS    OF   ENGLISH   HISTORY. 

known  that  Robin  Hood  once  shot  a  match  on  the  queen's  side 
against  the  king's  archers,  and  here  is  the  story  :  — 

Robin  Hood  on  one  occasion  sent  a  present  to  Queen  Kathe- 
rine  with  which  she  was  so  pleased  that  she  swore  she  would 
be  a  friend  to  the  noble  outlaw  as  long  as  she  might  live.  So 
one  day  the  queen  went  to  her  chamber  and  called  to  her  :i 
page  of  her  company  and  bade  him  make  haste  and  prepare  to 
ride  to  Nottinghamshire  to  find  Robin  Hood  in  Sherwood  For 
est  ;  for  the  queen  had  made  a  match  with  the  king,  her  archers 
against  his  archers,  and  the  queen  proposed  to  have  Robin 
Hood  and  his  band  to  shoot  on  her  side  against  the  king's 
archers. 

Now  as  for  the  page,  he  started  for  Nottingham  and  posted 
all  the  way,  and  inquired  on  the  road  for  Robin  Hood,  where 
he  might  be,  but  he  could  not  find  any  one  who  could  let  him 
know  exactly.  So  he  took  up  his  quarters  at  an  inn  at  Notting 
ham.  And  in  the  room  of  the  inn  he  sat  him  down  and  called 
for  a  bottle  of  Rhenish  wine,  and  he  drank  the  queen's  health 
out  of  it.  Now  at  his  side  was  sitting  a  yeoman  of  the  coun 
try,  clad  in  Lincoln  green,  with  a  long  bow  in  his  hand.  And 
he  turned  to«the  page  and  asked  him,  "  What  is  thy  business, 
my  sweet  boy,  so  far  in  the  north  country,  for  methinks  you 
must  come  from  London  ?  "  So  then  the  page  told  him  that 
it  was  his  business  to  find  Robin  Hood  the  outlaw,  and  for  that 
he  asked  every  yeoman  that  he  met.  And  he  asked  his  friend 


readiness  to  assist  him.  He  whom  he  most  affected  was  called  Little  John  by 
reason  of  his  low  stature,  though  not  inferior  to  any  of  them  in  strength  of  body 
and  stoutness  of  spirit.  He  would  not  entertain  any  into  his  service  whom  he 
had  not  first  fought  with  himself  and  made  sufficient  trial  of  his  courage  and  dex 
terity  how  to  use  his  weapons,  which  was  the  reason  that  oftentimes  he  came  home 
hurt  and  beaten  as  he  was;  which  was  nevertheless  no  occasion  of  the  diminu 
tion  of  his  love  to  the  person  whom  he  fought  with,  for  ever  afterwards  he  would 
be  the  more  familiar  with  him,  and  better  respect  him  for  it.  Many  petitions 
were  referred  to  the  king  for  a  pardon  for  him,  which  the  king  (understanding  of 
the  many  mad  pranks  he  and  his  associates  played)  would  give  no  ear  unto ;  but 
being  attended  with  a  considerable  guard,  did  make  a  progress  himself  to  find  him 
out  and  bring  him  to  condign  punishment.  At  last,  by  the  means  and  mediation 
of  Queen  Katherine  the  king's  wrath  was  qualified,  and  his  pardon  sealed,  and 
he  spent  his  old  age  in  peace,  at  a  house  of  his  own,  not  far  from  Nottingham, 
being  generally  beloved  and  respected  by  all." 


ROBIN   HOOD    AND    HIS    ADVENTURES.  355 

if  he  knew  anything  which  might  help  him.  "  Truly,"  said  the 
yeoman,  "  that  I  do.  And  if  you  will  get  to  horse  early  to 
morrow  morning  I  will  show  you  Robin  Hood  and  all  his  gay 
yeomen." 

So  the  next  morning  they  got  them  to  horse  and  rode  out 
into  the  forest,  and  the  yeoman  brought  the  page  to  where  were 
Robin  Hood  and  his  yeomen.  And  the  page  fell  down  on  his 
knee  and  said  to  Robin  Hood,  "  Queen  Katherine  greets  you 
well  by  me,  and  hath  sent  you  this  ring  as  a  token.  She  bids 
you  post  up  to  London  town,  for  that  there  shall  be  some  sport 
there  in  which  she  has  a  mind  you  shall  have  a  hand."  And 
at  this  Robin  took  off  his  mantle  of  Lincoln  green  from  his 
back  and  sent  it  by  the  page  to  Queen  Katherine  with  a 
promise  that  he  and  his  band  would  follow  him  as  soon  as 
they  might. 

So  Robin  Hood  clothed  all  his  men  in  Lincoln  green  and 
himself  in  scarlet,  and  each  man  wore  a  black  hat  with  a  white 
feather  stuck  therein.  And  thus  Robin  Hood  and  his  band 
came  up  to  London.  And  Robin  fell  down  on  his  knees  be 
fore  the  queen,  and  she  bade  him  welcome  with  all  his  band. 
For  the  match  between  the  queen's  archers  and  the  king's  was 
to  come  off  the  next  day  in  Finsbury  fields. 

Here  first  came  the  king's  archers  marching  with  bold  bear 
ing,  and  then  came  Robin  Hood  and  his  archers  for  the  queen. 
And  they  laid  out  the  marks  there.  And  the  king  laid  a  wager 
with  the  queen  on  the  shooting.  Now  the  wager  was  three 
hundred  tun  of  Rhenish,  and  three  hundred  tun  of  good  Eng 
lish  beer,  and  three  hundred  fat  harts.  So  then  the  queen 
asked  if  there  were  any  knights  with  the  king  who  would  take 
her  side.  But  they  were  unwilling,  for  said  they,  "How  shall 
we  bet  on  these  men  whom  we  have  never  seen,  when  we  know 
Clifton  and  the  rest  of  the  king's  archers,  and  have  seen  them 
shoot?"  Now  this  Clifton  was  one  of  the  king's  archers  and  a 
great  boaster.  And  when  he  had  reached  the  shooting  field  he 
had  cried  out,  "  Measure  no  marks  for  us,  my  lord  the  king,  for 
we  will  shoot  at  the  sun  and  moon."  But  for  all  that  Robin 
Hood  beat  him  at  the  shooting.  And  the  queen  asked  the 
Bishop  of  Herefordshire  to  back  her  archers.  But  he  swore 


356  THE    KNIGHTS    OF    ENGLISH    HISTORY. 

by  liis  mitre  that  he  would  not  bet  a  single  penny  on  the  queen's 
archers  for  he  knew  them  not.  "What  will  you  bet  against 
them,"  asked  Robin  Hood  at  this,  "  since  you  think  our  shoot 
ing  is  the  worse?"  "Truly,"  said  the  bishop,  "I  will  bet  all 
the  money  that  may  be  in  my  purse,"  and  he  pulled  it  up  from 
where  it  hung  at  his  side.  "What  is  in  your  purse  ?"  asked 
Robin  Hood.  And  the  bishop  tossed  it  down  on  the  ground, 
saying,  "Fifteen  rose-nobles,  and  that's  an  hundred  pound.'' 
So  Robin  Hood  tossed  out  a  bag  beside  the  bishop's  purse  on 
the  green. 

And  with  that  they  began  shooting,  and  shot  three  bouts 
and  they  came  out  even;  the  king's  and  the  queen's.  "The 
next  three  shots,"  said  the  king,  "  shall  pay  for  all."  And  so 
the  king's  archers  shot,  and  then  Robin  Hood,  and  Little  John 
and  Midge  the  miller's  son  shot  for  the  queen,  and  came  every 
man  of  them  nearer  the  prick  in  the  willow  wand  than  did  any 
of  the  king's  men.  So  the  queen's  archers  having  beaten, 
Queen  Katherine  asked  a  boon  of  the  king,  and  he  granted  it. 
"  Give  me,  I  pray  you,"  said  the  queen,  "  safe  conduct  for  the 
archers  of  my  party  to  come  and  to  go  home  and  to  stay  in 
London  here  some  time  to  enjoy  themselves."  "  I  grant  it," 
said  the  king.  "  Then  you  are  welcome,  Robin  Hood,"  said  the 
queen,  "and  so  is  Little  John  and  Midge  the  miller's  son  and 
every  one  of  you."  "  Is  this  Robin  Hood  ?  "  asked  the  king, 
"for  I  had  heard  that  he  was  killed  in  a  quarrel  in  the  north 
country."  And  the  bishop  too  asked,  "Is  this  Robin  Hood? 
If  I  had  known  that  I  would  not  have  bet  a  penny  with  him. 
He  took  me  one  Saturday  evening  and  bound  me  fast  to  a  tree, 
and  there  he  made  me  sing  a  mass  for  him  and  his  yeomanry 
about."  "  Well,  if  I  did,"  said  Robin  Hood,  "  surely  I  needed 
all  the  masses  that  I  might  get  for  my  soul."  And  with  that 
he  and  his  yeomanry  departed,  and  when  their  safe  conduct 
was  expired  they  journeyed  north  again  to  Sherwood  Forest. 

ROBIN  HOOD  AND  THE  BEGGAR. 

But  Robin  Hood,  once  having  supplied  himself  with  good 
store  of  money,  which  he  had  gotten  of  the  sheriff  of  Not- 


ROBIN    HOOD    AND    HIS    ADVENTURES.  357 

tingham,  bought  him  a  stout  gelding,  and  riding  on  him  one 
day  towards  Nottingham,  it  was  his  fortune  to  meet  with  a 
poor  beggar.  Robin  Hood  was  of  a  frolic  spirit,  and  no  ac 
cepter  of  persons ;  but  observing  the  beggar  to  have  several 
sorts  of  bags,  which  were  fastened  to  his  patched  coat,  he 
did  ride  up  to  him,  and  giving  him  the  time  of  day,  he  de 
manded  of  him  what  countryman  he  was.  "  A  Yorkshire- 
man,"  said  the  beggar ;  "  and  I  would  desire  of  you  to  give 
me  something."  "  Give  thee  !  "  said  Robin  Hood  ;  u  why,  I 
have  nothing  to  give  thee.  I  am  a  poor  ranger  in  the  forest, 
and  thou  seernest  to  be  a  lusty  knave ;  shall  I  give  thee  a  good 
bastinado  over  thy  shoulders?"  "  Content,  content,"  said  the 
beggar ;  "  I  durst  lay  all  my  bags  to  a  threaden  joust,  thou 
wilt  repent  it."  With  that  Robin  Hood  alighted,  and  the  beg 
gar,  with  his  long  quarterstaff,  so  well  defended  himself,  that, 
let  Robin  Hood  do  what  he  could,  he  could  not  come  within 
the  beggar,  to  flash  him  to  a  remembrance  of  his  overboldness; 
and  nothing  vexed  him  more  than  to  tincl  that  the  beggar's 
staff  was  as  hard  and  as  obdurate  as  iron  itself;  but  not  so 
Robin  Hood's  head,  for  the  beggar  with  all  his  force  did  let 
his  staff  descend  with  such  a  side  blow,  that  Robin  Hood, 
for  all  his  skill,  could  not  defend  it,  but  the  blood  came  trick 
ling  down  his  face,  which,  turning  Robin  Hood's  courage  into 
revenge  and  fury,  he  let  fly  at  him  with  his  trusty  sword,  and 
doubled  blow  upon  blow  ;  but  perceiving  that  the  beggar  did 
hold  him  so  hard  to  it  that  one  of  his  blows  was  but  the  fore 
runner  of  another,  and  every  blow  to  be  almost  the  Postilion 
of  Death,  he  cried  out  to  him  to  hold  his  hand.  "That  will  I 
not  do,"  said  the  beggar,  "  unless  thou  wilt  resign  unto  me  thy 
horse,  and  thy  sword,  and  thy  clothes,  with  all  the  money  thou 
hast  in  thy  pockets."  "  The  change  is  uneven,"  said  Robin 
Hood,  "  but  for  once  I  am  content." 

So,  putting  on  the  beggar's  clothes,  the  beggar  was  the  gen 
tleman,  and  Robin  Hood  was  the  beggar,  who,  entering  into 
Nottingham  town  with  his  patched  coat  and  several  wallets, 
understood  that  three  brethren  were  that  day  to  suffer  at  the 
gallows,  being  condemned  for  killing  the  king's  deer,  he  made 
no  more  ado,  but  went  directly  to  the  sheriff's  house,  where  a 


358  THE    KNIGHTS    OF    ENGLISH    HISTORY. 

young  gentleman,  seeing  him  to  stand  at  the  door,  demanded 
of  him  what  he  would  have.  Robin  Hood  returned  answer 
that  he  came  to  crave  neither  meat  nor  drink,  but  the  lives  of 
those  three  brothers  who  were  condemned  to  die.  "  That 
cannot  be,"  said  the  young  gentleman,  "for  they  are  all  this 
day  to  suffer  according  to  law,  for  stealing  of  the  king's  deer, 
and  they  are  already  conveyed  out  of  the  town  to  the  place  of 
-execution."  "I  will  be  with  them  presently,"  said  Robin 
Hood,  and  coming  to  the  gallows  he  found  many  making  great 
lamentation  for  them.  Robin  Hood  did  comfort  them,  and 
assured  them  they  should  not  die;  and  blowing  his  horn, 
behold  on  a  sudden  a  hundred  brave  archers  came  unto  him, 
by  whose  help,  having  released  the  prisoners,  and  killed  the 
hangman,  and  hurt  many  of  the  sheriff's  officers,  they  toot 
those  who  were  condemned  to  die  for  killing  the  king's  deei 
along  with  them,  who,  being  very  thankful  for  the  preservation 
of  their  lives,  became  afterwards  of  the  yeomanry  of  Robin 
Hood. 

ROBIN  HOOD  AND  KING  RICHARD. 

Now  King  Richard,  hearing  of  the  deeds  of  Robin  Plood  and 
his  men,  wondered  much  at  them,  and  desired  greatly  himself  to 
see  him,  and  his  men  as  well.  So  he  with  a  dozen  of  his  lords 
rode  to  Nottingham  town  and  there  took  up  his  abode.  And 
being  at  Nottingham,  the  king  one  day  with  his  lords  put  on 
friars'  gowns  every  one,  and  rode  forth  from  Fountain  Abbey 
down  to  Bnrnsdale.  And  as  they  were  riding  there  they  saw 
Robin  Hood  and  all  his  band  standing  ready  to  assail  them. 
The  king,  being  taller  than  the  rest,  was  thought  by  Robin  to 
be  the  abbot.  So  he  made  up  to  him,  and  seized  his  horse  by 
the  head,  and  bade  him  stand.  "For,"  said  he,  "it  is  against 
such  knaves  as  you  that  I  am  bound  to  make  war."  "  But," 
said  the  king  himself,  "we  are  messengers  from  the  king,  who 
is  but  a  little  away,  waiting  to  speak  with  you."  "  God  save 
the  king,"  said  Robin  Hood,  "and  all  his  well-wishers.  And 
accursed  be  every  one  who  may  deny  his  sovereignty."  "You 
are  cursing  yourself,"  said  the  king,  "  for  you  are  a  traitor." 
"Now,"  said  Robin  Hood,  "if  you  were  not  the  king's  mes- 


ROBIN    HOOD    AND    HIS    ADVENTURES.  359 

senger,  I  would  make  you  rue  that  word  of  yours.  I  am  as 
true  a  man  to  the  king  as  lives.  And  I  never  yet  injured 
any  honest  man  and  true,  but  only  those  who  make  their  living 
by  stealing  from  "others.  I  have  never  in  my  life  harmed  either 
husbandman  or  huntsman.  But  my  chief  spite  lies  against 
the  clergy,  who  have  in  these  days  great  power.  But  I  am 
right  glad  to  have  met  you  here.  Come  with  me,  and  you 
shall  taste  our  greenwood  cheer."  But  the  king  and  his  lords 
marvelled,  wondering  what  kind  of  cheer  Robin  might  provide 
for  them.  And  Robin  took  the  king's  horse  by  the  head,  and 
led  him  towards  his  tent.  "  It  is  because  thou  comest  from 
the  king,"  said  he,  "  that  I  use  you  in  this  wise;  and  hadst  thou 
as  much  gold  as  ever  I  had,  it  should  be  all  of  it  safe  for  good 
King  Richard's  sake."  And  with  that  he  took  out  his  horn, 
and  blew  on  it  a  loud  blast.  And  thereat  came  marching 
forth  from  the  wood  five  score  and  ten  of  Robin's  followers, 
and  each  one  bent  the  knee  before  Robin  Hood.  "Surely," 
thought  the  king,  "it  is  a  goodly  sight  to  see;  for  they  are 
more  humble  to  their  master  than  my  servants  are  to  me. 
Here  may  the  court  learn  something  from  the  greenwood." 
And  here  they  laid  a  dinner  for  the  king  and  his  lords,  and 
the  king  swore  that  he  had  never  feasted  better.  Then  Robin 
Hood,  taking  a  can  of  ale,  said,  "  Let  us  now  begin,  each  man 
with  his  can.  Here's  a  health  to  the  king."  And  they  all 
drank  the  health  to  the  king,  the  king  himself,  as  well  as 
another. 

And  after  the  dinner  they  all  took  their  bows,  and  showed 
the  king  such  archery  that  the  king  said  he  had  never  seen 
such  men  as  they  in  any  foreign  land.  And  then  said  the 
king  to  Robin  Hood,  "If  I  could  get  thee  a  pardon  from  King- 
Richard,  wouldst  thou  serve  the  king  well  in  everything?" 
"Yes,  with  all  rny  heart,"  said  Robin.  And  so  said  all  his 
men. 

And  with  that  the  king  declared  himself  to  them,  and  said, 
"I  am  the  king,  your  sovereign,  that  is  now  before  you." 
And  at  this  Robin  and  all  his  men  fell  down  on  their  knees; 
but  the  king  raised  them  up,  saying  to  them  that  he  pardoned 
;ach  one  of  them,  and  that  they  should  every  one  of  them  be 


360  THE    KNIGHTS    OF    ENGLISH   HISTORY. 

in  his  service.  So  the  king  returned  to  Nottingham,  and  with 
him  returned  -Robin  Hood  and  his  men,  to  the  great  joy  of  the 
townspeople,  whom  they  had  for  a  long  time  sorely  vexed. 

"  And  they  arc  gone  to  London  court, 

Robin  Hood  and  all  his  train  ; 
He  once  was  there  a  noble  peer, 
And  no\v  he's  there  again." 


THE  DEATH  OF  ROBIN  HOOD. 

But  Robin  Hood  returned  to  Sherwood  Forest,  and  there 
met  his  death.  For  one  day,  being  wounded  in  a  fight,  he  fled 
out  of  the  battle  with  Little  John.  And  being  at  some  dis 
tance,  Robin  Hood  said  to  his  lieutenant,  "  Now  truly  I  can 
not  shoot  even  one  shot  more,  for  the  arrows  will  not  fly.  For 
I  am  sore  wounded.  So  I  will  go  to  my  cousin,  the  abbess, 
who  dwelleth  near  here  in  Kirkley  Hall,  and  she  shall  bleed 
me,  that  I  may  be  well  again."  So  Robin  Hood  left  Little 
John,  and  he  went  his  way  to  Kirkley ;  and  reaching  the  Hall, 
his  strength  nearly  left  him,  yet  he  knocked  heavily  at  the 
door.  And  his  cousin  came  down  first  to  let  him  in.  And 
when  she  saw  him  she  knew  that  it  was  her  cousin  Robin 
Hood,  and  she  received  him  with  a  joyful  face.  Then  said 
Robin,  "  You  see  me,  my  cousin,  how  weak  I  am.  Therefore 
I  pray  you  to  bleed  me,  that  I  may  be  whole  again."  And  his 
cousin  took  him  by  the  hand,  and  led  him  into  an  upper  room, 
and  laid  him  on  a  bed,  and  she  bled  him.  But  the  treacherous 
woman  tied  not  up  the  vein  again,  but  left  him  so  that  his  life 
began  to  flow  from  him.  And  he,  finding  his  strength  leaving 
him,  thought  to  escape ;  but  he  could  not,  for  the  door  was 
locked,  and  the  casement  window  was  so  high  that  he  might 
not  leap  down  from  it.  Then,  knowing  that  he  must  die,  he 
reached  forth  his  hand  to  his  bugle  horn,  which  lay  by  him  on 
the  bed.  And  setting  the  horn  to  his  mouth,  he  blew  weakly, 
though  with  all  his  strength,  three  blasts  upon  it.  And  Little 
John,  as  he  sat  under  the  tree  in  the  greenwood,  heard  his 
blowing,  and  he  said,  "Now  must  Robin  be  near  death,  for  his 
blast  is  very  weak." 


ROBIN   HOOD    AND    HIS    ADVENTURES.  361 

And  he  got  up  and  ran  to  Kirkley  Hall  as  fast  as  he  might. 
And  coming  to  the  door,  he  found  it  locked ;  but  he  broke  it 
down,  and  so  came  to  Robin  Hood.  And  corning  to  the  bed, 
he  fell  upon  his  knees,  and  said,  "  Master,  I  beg  a  boon  of 
thee,  —  that  thou  lettest  me  burn  down  Kirkley  Hall  and  all 
the  nunnery."  "  Nay,"  quoth  Robin  Hood ;  "  nay,  I  cannot 
grant  you  your  boon  ;  for  never  in  my  life  did  I  hurt  woman, 
or  man  in  woman's  company,  nor  shall  it  be  done  when  I  die. 
But  for  me,  give  me  my  long  bow,  and  I  will  let  fly  an  arrow, 
and  where  you  shall  find  the  arrow,  there  bury  me.  And 
make  my  grave  long  and  broad,  that  I  may  rest  easily;  and 
place  my  head  upon  a  green  sod,  and  place  my  bow  at  my 
side."  And  these  words  Little  John  readily  promised  him,  so 
that  Robin  Hood  was  pleased.  And  they  buried  him  as  he 
had  asked,  an  arrow-shot  from  Kirkley  Hall. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

CHEYY   CHASE. 

"  The  Perse  out  of  Northumberlande, 

And  a  vowe  to  God  mayde  he, 
That  lie  Avoid  hunte  in  the  mountayns 

Off  Chyviat  within  days  thre, 
In  the  mauler  of  doughte  Dogles, 
And  all  that  ever  with  him  be." 

PERCY  :  Reliqucs  of  Ancient  Poetry. 

SCARCELY  less  famous  than  Robin  Hood  as  a  subject  for 
ballad  makers  was  the  battle  of  Chevy  Chase.  This  battle 
was  one  of  the  many  struggles  rising  out  of  the  never-ending 
border  quarrels  between  Scotland  and  England,  of  which  poets 
are  never  tired  of  singing.  Sometimes  the  Earl  of  Douglas, 
the  great  Scotch  border-lord,  would  make  an  incursion  into 
Northumberland,  and  then  to  revenge  the  insult  Lord  Percy 
would  come  riding  over  the  Tweed  into  Scotland. 

In  the  battle  of  Chevy. Chase  it  would  seem  as  if  Earl  Percy 
was  the  aggressor.     As  a  matter  of  fact  it  mattered  little  which 
S62 


CHEVY    CHASE.  363 

began  the  quarrel  at  any  particular  time.     The  feud  was  ever 
smouldering,  and  needed  little  to  make  it  burst  forth. 

THE  BALLAD  OF  CHEVY  CHASE. 

-. 

GOD  prosper  long  our  noble  king, 

Our  lives  and  safetyes  all ; 
A  woefull  hunting  once  there  did 

In  Chevy  Chase  befall. 

To  drive  the  deer  with  hound  and  home, 

Erie  Percy  took  his  way, 
The  child  may  rue  that  is  unborne 

The  hunting  of  that  day. 

The  stout  Erie  of  Northumberland 

A  vow  to  God  did  make, 
His  pleasure  in  the  Scottish  woods 

Three  summer  days  to  take  ; 

The  cheefest  harts  in  Chevy  Chase 

To  kill  and  bear  away. 
These  tidings  to  Erie  Douglas  came, 

In  Scotland  where  he  lay, 

Who  sent  Erie  Percy  present  word 

He  would  prevent  his  sport. 
The  English  Erie  not  fearing  that, 

Did  to  the  woods  resort, 

With  fifteen  hundred  bowmen  bold; 

All  chosen  men  of  might, 
Who  knew  full  well  in  time  of  neede 

To  ayme  their  shafts  aright. 

The  gallant  greyhounds  swiftly  ran 

To  chase  the  fallow  deere  : 
On  Monday  they  began  to  hunt 

Ere  daylight  did  appear ; 

And  long  before  high  noon  they  had 

An  hundred  fat  buckes  slaine  ; 
Then  having  dined  the  drovyers  went 

To  rouse  the  deer  again. 

The  bowmen  mustered  on  the  hill, 

Well  able  to  endure ; 
Their  backsides  all,  with  special  care, 

That  day  were  guarded  sure. 


364  THE    KNIGHTS    OF    ENGLISH   HISTORY, 

The  hounds  ran  swiftly  through  the  woods, 

The  nimble  deere  to  take, 
That  with  their  cryes  the  hills  and  dales 

An  eccho  shrill  did  make. 

Lord  Percy  to  the  quarry  went, 
To  view  the  slaughtered  deer ; 

Quoth  he,  Erie  Douglas  promised 
This  day  to  meet  me  heere ; 

But  if  I  thought  he  would  not  come, 

Noe  longer  would  I  stay. 
With  that  a  brave  young  gentleman 

Thus  to  the  Erie  did  say :  — 

Loe,  yonder  doth  Erie  Douglas  come, 
His  men  in  armour  bright; 

Full  twenty  hundred  Scottish  speres 
All  marching  in  our  sight ; 

All  men  of  pleasant  Tivydale, 
Fast  by  the  river  Tweede  : 

0  cease  your  sports,  Erie  Percy  said, 
And  take  your  bowes  with  speede. 

And  now  with  me,  my  countrymen, 
Your  courage  forth  advance ; 

For  there  was  never  champion  yett 
In  Scotland  or  in  France, 

That  ever  did  on  horseback  come, 
But  if  my  hap  it  were, 

1  durst  encounter  man  for  man, 
With  him  to  break  a  spere. 

Erie  Douglas  on  his  milk-white  steede, 

Most  like  a  baron  bold, 
Rode  foremost  of  his  company, 

Whose  armour  shone  like  gold. 

Show  me,  sayd  he,  whose  men  you  be, 
That  hunt  so  boldly  heere, 

That  without  my  consent  doe  chase 
And  kill  my  fallow  deere. 

The  first  man  that  did  answer  make 

Was  noble  Percy  he ; 
Who  sayd,  We  list  not  to  declare, 

Nor  show  whose  men  we  be. 


CHEVY    CHASE.  365 

Yet  we  will  spend  our  deerest  blood, 

Thy  cheefest  harts  to  slay. 
The  Douglas  swore  a  solempne  oathe, 

And  thus  in  rage  did  say, 

Ere  thus  I  will  outbraved  be, 

One  of  us  two  shall  dye  : 
I  know  thee  well,  an  erle  thou  art ; 
Lord  Percy,  soe  am  I. 

But  trust  me,  Percy,  pittye  it  were 

And  great  offence  to  kill 
Any  of  these  our  guiltless  men, 

For  they  have  done  no  ill. 

Let  thou  and  I  the  battell  trye, 

And  set  our  men  aside. 
Accurst  be  he,  Erie  Percy  saycl, 

By  whom  this  is  denyed. 

Then  stept  a  gallant  squier  forth, 

Witherington  was  his  name, 
Who  said,  I  wold  not  have  it  told 

To  Henry  our  king  for  shame, 

That  ere  my  captaine  fought  on  foot 

And  I  stood  looking  on. 
You  be  two  erles,  saycl  Witherington, 

And  I  a  squier  alone  : 

He  doe  the  best  that  doe  I  may, 

While  I  have  power  to  stand  : 
While  I  have  power  to  wield  my  sword, 

He  fight  with  hart  and  hand. 

Our  English  archers  bent  their  bowes 

Their  harts  were  good  and  trew ; 
At  the  first  flight  of  arrowes  sent, 

Full  fourscore  Scots  they  slew. 

Yet  bides  Erie  Douglas  on  the  bent, 

As  cheeftain  stout  and  good, 
As  valiant  captain,  all  unmoved, 

The  shock  he  firmly  stood. 

His  host  he  parted  had  in  three, 

As  leader  ware  and  tryd, 
And  soon  his  spearmen  on  his  foes 

Bare  down  on  everv  side. 


366  THE    KNIGHTS    OF   ENGLISH    HISTORY, 

To  drive  the  deere  Avith  hound  and  home, 
Douglass  bade  on  the  bent : 

Two  captaines  moved  with  mickle  might 
Their  speares  to  shivers  went. 

Throughout  the  English  archery 
They  dealt  full  many  a  wound  ; 

But  still  our  valiant  Englishmen 
All  firmly  kept  their  ground  : 

And  throwing  straight  their  bowes  away, 
They  grasped  their  swords  so  bright : 

And  now  sharp  blows,  a  heavy  shower, 
On  shields  and  helmets  light. 

They  closed  full  fast  on  every  side, 
No  slackness  there  was  found  ; 

And  many  a  gallant  gentleman 
Lay  gasping  on  the  ground. 

0  Christ !  it  was  a  griefe  to  see, 
And  likewise  for  to  heare, 

The  cries  of  men  lying  in  their  gore, 
And  scattered  here  and  there. 

At  last  these  two  stout  erles  did  meet, 
Like  captaines  of  great  might; 

Like  lyons  wood,  they  layd  011  lode 
And  made  a  cruell  fight : 

They  fought  until  they  both  did  sweat, 
With  swords  of  tempered  steele ; 

Until  the  blood,  like  drops  of  i*ain, 
They  trickling  down  did  feele. 

Yield  thee,  Lord  Percy,  Douglas  sayd ; 

In  faith  I  will  thee  bringe, 
Where  thou  shalt  high  advanced  be 

By  James  our  Scottish  king  : 

Thy  ransome  I  will  freely  give, 

And  this  report  of  thee  : 
Thou  art  the  most  courageous  knight 

That  ever  I  did  see. 

Noe,  Douglas,  quoth  Erie  Percy  then, 
Thy  proffer  I  do  scorne ; 

1  will  not  yield  to  any  Scott, 
That  ever  yet  was  borne. 


CHEVY   CHASE. 

With  that  there  came  an  arrow  keenc, 

Out  of  an  English  bow, 
Which  struck  Erie  Douglas  to  the  heart, 

A  deepe  and  deadly  blow :     - 

Who  never  spa*ke  more  words  than  these, 
Fight  on,  my  merry  men  all ; 

For  why,  my  life  is  at  an  end ; 
Lord  Percy  sees  my  fall. 

Then  leaving  liffe,  Erie  Percy  tooke 

The  dead  man  by  the  hand  ; 
And  said,  Erie  Douglas,  for  thy  life 

Wold  I  have  lost  my  land. 

O  Christ,  my  veiy  hart  doth  bleed 

With  sorrow  for  thy  sake ; 
For  sure  a  more  redoubted  knight 

Mischance  cold  never  take. 

A  knight  among  the  Scotts  there  was 

Who  saw  Erie  Douglas  dye, 
Who  streight  in  wrath  did  vow  revenge 

Upon  the  Lord  Percy. 

Sir  Hugh  Montgomery  was  he  called, 
Who,  with  a  spear  most  bright, 

Well  mounted  on  a  gallant  steed, 
Kan  fiercely  through  the  fight; 

And  past  the  English  archers  all, 

Without  all  dread  and  feare  ; 
And  through  Earl  Percy's  body  then 

He  thrust  his  hatefull  speare ; 

With  such  a  vehement  force  and  might 

He  did  his  body  gore, 
The  staff  ran  through  the  other  side 

A  large  cloth-yard  or  more. 

So  thus  did  both  these  nobles  dye, 
Whose  courage  none  could  staine  : 

An  English  archer  then  perceived 
The  noble  erle  was  slaine ; 

He  had  a  bow  bent  in  his  hand, 

Made  of  a  trusty  tree ; 
An  arrow  of  a  cloth-yard  long 

Up  to  the  head  drew  he  : 


368  THE    KNIGHTS   OF   ENGLISH   HISTORY. 

Against  Sir  Hugh  Montgomery, 

So  right  the  shaft  he  sett, 
The  grey  goose-wing  that  was  thereon, 

In  his  hart's  blood  was  wett. 

This  fight  did  last  from  break  of  day 

Till  setting  of  the  sun ; 
For  when  they  rang  the  evening-bell 

The  battle  scarce  was  done. 

With  stoute  Erie  Percy  there  was  slaiue 

Sir  John  of  Egerton, 
Sir  Robert  Katcliff,  and  Sir  John, 

Sir  James  that  bold  barren : 

And  with  Sir  George  and  stoute  Sir  James 
Both  knights  of  good  account, 

Good  Sir  Ralph  Raby  there  was  slaine, 
Whose  prowese  did  surmount. 

For  Witherington  my  heart  is  woe, 
That  ever  he  slain  should  be ; 

For  when  his  legs  were  hewn  in  two 
He  knelt  and  fought  on  his  knee. 

And  with  Erie  Douglas  there  was  slaine 

Sir  Hugh  Montgomery, 
Sir  Charles  Murray,  that  from  the  field 

One  foot  wold  never  flee. 

Sir  Charles  Murray,  of  Ratcliff  too, 
His  sister's  sonne  was  he; 

Sir  David  Lamb,  so  well  esteem'd, 
Yet  saved  cold  not  be, 

And  the  Lord  Maxwell  in  like  case 
Did  with  Erie  Douglass  dye  : 

Of  twenty  hundred  Scottish  speres 
Scarce  fifty-five  did  flye. 

Of  fifteen  hundred  Englishmen, 
Went  home  but  fifty-three ; 

The  rest  were  slaine  in  Chevy  Chase, 
Under  the  greene  woode  tree. 

Next  day  did  many  widowes  come, 
Their  husbands  to  bewayle ; 

They  washed  their  wounds  in  brinish  teares, 
But  all  wold  not  prevayle. 


CHEVY   CHASE.  369 

Theyr  bodyes,  bathed  in  purple  gore, 

They  bore  with  them  away ; 
They  kist  them  dead  a  thousand  times, 

Ere  they  were  cladd  in  clay. 

The  newes  was  brought  to  Eddenborrow, 

Where  Scotland's  king  did  raigne, 
That  brave  Erie  Douglas  suddenlye 

Was  with  an  arrow  slaine. 

0  heavy  newes,  King  James  did  say, 
Scotland  may  witness  be, 

1  have  not  any  captain  more 
Of  such  account  as  he. 

Like  tydings  to  King  Henry  came, 

Within  as  short  a  space, 
That  Percy  of  Northumberland 

Was  slaine  in  Chevy  Chase : 

Now  God  be  with  him,  said  the  king, 

Sith  it  will  noe  better  be ; 
I  trust  I  have  within  my  realme, 

Five  hundred  as  good  as  he. 

Yet  shall  not  Scotts  nor  Scotland  say, 

But  I  will  vengeance  take ; 
He  be  revenged  on  them  all 

For  brave  Erie  Percy's  sake. 

This  vow  full  well  the  king  performed 

After  at  Humbledowne ; 
In  one  day  fifty  knights  were  slaine, 

With  lords  of  great  renowne ; 

And  of  the  rest  of  small  account, 

Did  many  thousands  dye : 
Thus  endeth  the  hunting  of  Chevy  Chase 

Made  by  the  Erie  Percy. 

God  save  our  king,  and  bless  this  land 

With  plentye,  joy,  and  peace ; 
And  grant  henceforth  that  foule  debate 

'Twixt  noblemen  may  cease. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

THE  BATTLE  OF  OTTERBOURNE. 

IT  fell  about  a  Lamass-tide, 

When  husbands  wynn  their  hay, 
The  doughty  Douglas  bound  him  to  ride 

In  England  to  take  a  pray. 

A  NOTHER  famous  battle  in  the  border-warfare  between 
-^J^-  England  and  Scotland  was  fought  at  Otterbourne.  This 
is  a  town  in  Northumberland,  and  here,  as  in  Chevy  Chase,  the 
Douglas  and  the  Percy  matched  their  strength.  Earl  Douglas 
was  killed  in  the  fight,  and  Sir  Henry  Percy,  called  Hotspur, 
was  taken  prisoner.  The  story  as  it  is  told  here  is  from  the 
works  of  that  most  entertaining  and  long-winded  historian  of 
chivalry,  Sir  John  Froissart. 

We  begin  in  medias  res  with  a  Scotch  foray,  in  which  the 
Douglas,  with  the  Earl  of  March  and  Dunbar  and  the  Earl  of 
Moray,  has  penetrated  as  far  into  England  as  the  city  of  Dur 
ham  and  is  now  returning  to  Scotland. 

The  three  Scots  lords,  having  completed  the  object  of  their 
expedition  into  Durham,  lay  before  Newcastle  three  days,  where 
370 


THE  BATTLE  OF  OTTERBOURNE.          371 

there  was  an  almost  continual  skirmish.  The  sons  of  the  earl 
of  Northumberland,  from  their  great  courage,  were  always  the 
first  at  the  barriers,  where  many  valiant  deeds  were  done  with 
lances  hand  to  hand.  The  earl  of  Douglas  had  a  long  conflict 
with  Sir  Henry  Percy,  and  in  it,  by  gallantry  of  arms,  won  his 
pennon,  to  the  great  vexation  of  Sir  Henry  and  the  other  Eng 
lish.  The  earl  of  Douglas  said,  "I  will  carry  this  token  of 
your  prowess  with  me  to  Scotland,  and  place  it  on  the  tower 
of  my  castle  at  Dalkeith,  that  it  may  be  seen  from  afar."  "  By 
Heaven,  Earl  of  Douglas,"  replied  Sir  Henry,  "  you  shall  not 
even  bear  it  out  of  Northumberland  :  be  assured  you  shall 
never  have  this  pennon  to  brag  of.'1  "You  must  come  then," 
answered  Earl  Douglas,  "this  night  and  seek  for  it.  I  will  fix 
your  pennon  before  my  tent,  and  shall  see  if  you  will  venture 
to  take  it  away." 

As  it  was  now  late  the  skirmish  ended,  and  each  party  re 
tired  to  their  quarters  to  disarm  and  comfort  themselves. 
They  had  plenty  of  everything,  particularly  flesh  meat.  The 
Scots  kept  up  a  very  strict  watch,  concluding  from  the  words 
of  Sir  Henry  Percy  they  should  have  their  quarters  beaten  up 
this  night ;  they  were  disappointed,  for  Sir  Henry  Percy  was 
advised  to  defer  it. 

On  the  morrow  the  Scots  dislodged  from  before  Newcastle ; 
and,  taking  the  road  to  their  own  country,  they  came  to  a  town 
and  castle  called  Ponclau,  of  which  Sir  Raymond  de  Laval, 
a  very  valiant  knight  of  Northumberland,  was  the  lord.  They 
halted  there  about  four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  as  they  learned 
the  knight  to  be  within  it,  and  made  preparations  for  the  as 
sault.  This  was  done  with  such  courage  that  the  place  was 
won,  and  the  knight  made  prisoner.  After  they  had  burnt  the 
town  and  castle,  they  marched  away  for  Otterbourne,  which 
was  eight  English  leagues  from  Newcastle,  and  there  encamped 
themselves.  This  day  they  made  no  attack ;  but  very  early  on 
the  morrow  their  trumpets  sounded,  and  they  made  ready  for 
the  assault,  advancing  towards  the  castle,  which  was  tolerably 
strong,  and  situated  among  the  marshes.  They  attacked  it  so 
long  and  so  unsuccessfully  that  they  were  fatigued,  and  there 
fore  sounded  a  retreat.  When  they  had  retired  to  their  quar- 


372  THE    KNIGHTS    OF   ENGLISH   HISTORY. 

ters,  the  chiefs  held  a  council  how  to  act ;  and  the  greater  part 
were  for  decamping  on  the  morrow,  without  attempting  more 
against  the  castle,  to  join  their  countrymen  in  the  neighbor 
hood  of  Carlisle.  But  the  earl  of  Douglas  overruled  this  by 
saying,  "In  despite  of  Sir  Henry  Percy,  who  the  day  before 
yesterday  declared  he  would  take  from  me  his  pennon,  that  I 
conquered  by  fair  deeds  of  arms  before  Newcastle,  I  will  not 
return  home  for  two  or  three  days ;  and  we  will  renew  our  at 
tack  on  the  castle,  for  it  is  to  be  taken  :  we  shall  thus  gain 
double  honor,  and  see  if  within  that  time  he  will  come  for  his 
pennon ;  if  he  do  it  shall  be  well  defended."  Every  one  agreed 
to  what  Earl  Douglas  had  said ;  for  it  was  not  only  honorable, 
but  he  was  the  principal  commander ;  and  from  affection  to 
him  they  quietly  returned  to  their  quarters.  They  made  huts 
of  trees  and  branches,  and  strongly  fortified  themselves.  They 
placed  their  baggage  and  servants  at  the  entrance  of  the  marsh 
on  the  road  to  Newcastle,  and  the  cattle  they  drove  into  the 
marsh  lands. 

I  will  return  to  Sir  Henry  and  Sir  Ralph  Percy,  who  were 
greatly  mortified  that  the  earl  of  Douglas  should  have  con 
quered  their  pennon  in  the  skirmish  before  Newcastle.  They 
felt  the  more  for  this  disgrace  because  Sir  Henry  had  not  kept 
his  word ;  for  he  had  told  the  earl  that  he  should  never  carry 
his  pennon  out  of  England,  and  this  he  explained  to  the  knights 
who  were  with  him  in  Newcastle.  The  English  imagined 
the  army  under  the  earl  of  Douglas  to  be  only  the  van  of  the 
Scots,  and  that  the  main  body  was  behind ;  for  which  reason 
those  knights  who  had  the  most  experience  in  arms,  and  were 
best  acquainted  with  warlike  affairs,  strongly  opposed  the  pro 
posal  of  Sir  Henry  Percy  to  pursue  them.  They  said,  "Sir, 
many  losses  happen  in  war:  if  the  earl  of  Douglas  has  won 
your  pennon  he  has  bought  it  dear  enough  ;  for  he  has  come  To 
the  gates  to  seek  it,  and  has  been  well  fought  with.  Another 
time  you  will  gain  from  him  as  much  if  not  more.  We  say  so. 
because  you  know  as  well  as  we  do  that  the  whole  power  of 
Scotland  has  taken  the  field.  We  are  not  sufficiently  strong 
to  offer  them  battle ;  and  perhaps  this  skirmish  may  have  been 
only  a  trick  to  draw  us  out  of  the  town ;  and  if  they  be,  as 


THE  BATTLE  OF  OTTERBOURNE.          373 

reported,  forty  thousand  strong,  they  will  surround  us,  and 
have  us  at  their  mercy.  It  is  much  better  to  lose  a  pennon 
than  two  or  three  hundred  knights  and  squires,  and  leave  our 
country  in  a  defenceless  state."  This  speech  checked  the  eager 
ness  of  the  two  brothers  Bercy,  for  they  would  not  act  con 
trary  to  the  opinion  of  the  council;  when  other  news  was 
brought  them  by  some  knights  and  squires  who  had  followed 
and  observed  the  Scots,  their  numbers,  disposition,  and  where 
they  had  halted.  This  was  all  fully  related  by  knights  who 
had  traversed  the  whole  extent  of  country  the  Scots  had  passed 
through,  that  they  might  carry  to  their  lords  the  most  exact 
information.  They  thus  spoke :  "  Sir  Henry  and  Sir  Ralph 
Percy,  we  come  to  tell  you  that  we  have  followed  the  Scottish 
army,  and  observed  all  the  country  where  they  now  are.  They 
first  halted  at  Ponclau,  and  took  Sir  Raymond  de  Laval  in  his 
castle ;  thence  they  went  to  Otterbourne,  and  took  up  their 
quarters  for  the  night.  We  are  ignorant  of  what  they  did  on 
the  morrow,  but  they  seem  to  have  taken  measures  for  a  long 
stay.  We  know  for  certain  that  their  army  does  not  consist 
of  more  than  three  thousand  men,  including  all  sorts."  Sir 
Henry  Percy  on  hearing  this  was  greatly  rejoiced,  and  cried 
out,  "  To  horse  !  to  horse  !  for  by  the  faith  I  owe  my  God,  and 
to  my  lord  and  father,  I  will  seek  to  recover  my  pennon  and  to 
beat  up  their  quarters  this  night."  Such  knights  and  squires  in 
Newcastle  as  learned  this  were  willing  to  be  of  the  party,  and 
made  themselves  ready. 

The  Bishop  of  Durham  was  expected  daily  at  the  town ;  for 
he  had  heard  of  the  irruption  of  the  Scots,  and  that  they  were 
before  it,  in  which  were  the  sons  of  the  Earl  of  Northumber 
land  preparing  to  offer  them  combat.  The  bishop  had  col 
lected  a  number  of  men,  and  was  hastening  to  their  assistance, 
but  Sir  Henry  Percy  would  not  wait ;  for  he  was  accompanied 
by  six  hundred  spears,  of  knights  and  squires,  and  upwards  of 
eight  thousand  infantry,  which  he  said  would  be  more  than 
enough  to  fight  the  Scots,  who  were  but  three  hundred  lances  and 
two  thousand  others.  When  they  were  all  assembled  they  left 
Newcastle  after  dinner,  and  took  the  field  in  good  array,  fol 
lowing  the  road  the  Scots  had  taken,  making  for  Otterbourne, 


374  THE    KNIGHTS    OF    ENGLISH   HISTORY. 

which  was  eight  short  leagues  distant;  but  they  could  not 
advance  very  fast,  that  their  infantry  might  keep  up  with 
them. 

As  the  Scots  were  supping,  —  some  indeed  had  gone  to  sleep, 
for  they  had  labored  hard  during  the  day  at  the  attack  of  the 
attack  of  the  castle,  and  intended  renewing  it  in  the  cool  of 
the  morning,  —  the  English  arrived,  and  mistook,  at  their  en 
trance,  the  huts  of  the  servants  for  those  of  their  masters. 
They  forced  their  way  into  the  camp,  which  was,  however,  tol 
erably  strong,  shouting  out,  "  Percy  !  Percy  !  "  In  such  cases 
you  may  suppose  an  alarm  is  soon  given,  and  it  was  fortunate 
for  the  Scots  that  the  English  had  made  their  first  attack  on  the 
servants'  quarters,  which  checked  them  some  little.  The  Scots, 
expecting  the  English,  had  prepared  accordingly;  for  while 
the  lords  were  arming  themselves  they  ordered  a  body  of  in 
fantry  to  join  their  servants  and  keep  up  the  skirmish.  As 
their  men  were  armed,  they  formed  themselves  under  the  pen 
nons  of  the  three  principal  barons,  who  each  had  his  particular 
appointment.  In  the  meantime  the  night  advanced,  but  it  was 
sufficiently  light,  for  the  moon  shone,  and  it  was  the  month 
of  August,  when  the  weather  is  temperate  and  serene. 

When  the  Scots  were  quite  ready,  and  properly  arrayed,  they 
left  their  camp  in  silence,  but  did  not  march  to  meet  the  Eng 
lish.  They  skirted  the  side  of  the  mountain  which  was  hard 
by;  for  during  the  preceding  day  they  had  well  examined  the 
country  round,  and  said  among  themselves,  "Should  the  Eng 
lish  come  to  beat  up  our  quarters  we  will  do  so  and  so,"  and 
thus  settled  their  plans  beforehand,  which  was  the  saving  of 
them ;  for  it  is  of  the  greatest  advantage  to  men-at-arrns  when 
attacked  in  the  night  to  have  previously  arranged  their  mode 
of  defence,  and  well  to  have  weighed  the  chance  of  victory  or 
defeat.  The  English  had  soon  overpowered  their  servants ; 
but  as  they  advanced  into  the  camp  they  found  fresh  bodies 
ready  to  oppose  them,  and  to  continue  the  fight.  The  Scots, 
in  the  meantime,  marched  along  the  mountain  side,  and  fell 
upon  the  enemy's  flank  quite  unexpectedly,  shouting  their  cries. 
This  was  a  great  surprise  to  the  English,  who  however  formed 
themselves  in  better  order  and  reinforced  that  part  of  their 


THE  BATTLE  OF  OTTERBOURNE.          375 

army.  The  cries  of  Percy  and  Douglas  resounded  on  either 
side. 

The  battle  now  raged :  great  was  the  pushing  of  lances,  and 
very  many  of  each*  party  was  struck  down  at  the  first  onset.  The 
English  being  more  numerous,  and  anxious  to  defeat  the 
enemy,  kept  in  a  compact  body,  and  forced  the  Scots  to  re 
tire,  who  were  on  the  point  of  being  discomfited.  The  earl 
of  Douglas  being  young,  and  impatient  to  gain  renown  in  arms, 
ordered  his  banner  to  advance,  shouting,  "  Douglas  !  Douglas !  " 
Sir  Henry  and  Sir  Ralph  Percy,  indignant  for  the  affront  the 
earl  of  Douglas  had  put  on  them,  by  conquering  their  pennon, 
and  desirous  of  meeting  him,  hastened  to  the  place  from  whence 
the  sounds  came,  calling  out,  ''Percy !  Percy ! "  The  two  ban 
ners  met,  and  many  gallant  deeds  of  arms  ensued.  The  Eng 
lish  were  in  superior  strength,  and  fought  so  lustily  that  they 
drove  back  the  Scots.  Sir  Patrick  Hepburn  and  his  son  of  the 
same  name  did  honor  to  their  knighthood  and  country  by  their 
gallantry,  under  the  banner  of  Douglas,  which  would  have 
been  conquered  but  for  the  vigorous  defence  they  made  ;  and 
this  circumstance  not  only  contributed  to  their  personal  credit, 
but  the  memory  of  it  is  continued  with  honor  to  their  descend 
ants. 

The  knights  and  squires  of  either  party  were  anxious  to 
continue  the  combat  with  vigor  as  long  as  their  spears  might 
be  capable  of  holding.  Cowardice  was  there  unknown,  and 
the  most  splendid  courage  was  everywhere  exhibited  by  the 
gallant  youths  of  England  and  Scotland  ;  they  were  so  closely 
intermixed  that  the  archers'  bows  were  useless,  and  they 
fought  hand  to  hand,  without  either  battalion  giving  way. 
The  Scots  behaved  most  valiantly,  for  the  English  were  three 
to  one.  I  do  not  mean  to  say  the  English  did  not  acquit 
themselves  well ;  for  they  would  sooner  be  slain  or  made  pris 
oners  in  battle  than  reproached  with  flight.  As  I  before  men 
tioned,  the  two  banners  of  Douglas  and  Percy  met,  and  the 
men-at-arrns  under  each  exerted  themselves  by  every  means  to 
gain  the  victory;  but  the  English,  at  this  attack,  were  so 
much  the  stronger,  that  the  Scots  were  driven  back.  The 
earl  of  Douglas,  who  was  of  a  high  spirit,  seeing  his  men 


376  THE    KNIGHTS    OF    ENGLISH   HISTORY. 

repulsed,  seized  a  battle-axe  with  both  his  hands,  like  a  gallant 
knight,  and  to  rally  his  men  dashed  into  the  midst  of  his  ene 
mies,  and  gave  such  blows  on  all  around  him  that  no  one  could 
withstand  them,  but  all  made  way  for  him  on  every  side ;  for 
there  was  none  so  well  armed  with  helmets  and  plates  but  that 
they  suffered  from  his  battle-axe.  Thus  he  advanced,  like 
another  Hector,  thinking  to  recover  and  conquer  the  field, 
from  his  own  prowess,  until  he  was  met  by  three  spears  that 
were  pointed  at  him.  One  struck  him  on  the  shoulder,  an 
other  on  the  stomach,  and  the  third  entered  his  thigh.  He 
could  never  disengage  himself  from  these  spears,  but  was 
borne  to  the  ground,  fighting  desperately.  From  that  time  he 
never  rose  again.  Some  of  his  knights  and  squires  had  fol 
lowed  him,  but  not  all;  for,  though  the  moon  shone,  it  wns 
rather  dark.  The  three  English  lancers  knew  that  they  had 
struck  down  some  person  of  considerable  rank,  but  never 
thought  it  was  Earl  Douglas.  Had  they  known  it,  they  would 
have  been  so  rejoiced  that  their  courage  would  have  been 
redoubled,  and  the  fortune  of  the  day  had  consequently  been 
determined  to  their  side.  The  Scots  wrere  ignorant  also  of 
their  loss  until  the  battle  was  over,  otherwise  they  would  cer 
tainly,  from  despair,  have  been  discomfited. 

I  will  relate  what  befell  the  earl  afterward.  As  soon  as  he 
fell,  his  head  was  cleaved  by  a  battle-axe,  the  spear  thrust 
through  his  thigh,  and  the  main  body  of  the  English  marched 
over  him,  without  paying  any  attention,  not  supposing  him  to 
be  their  principal  enemy.  In  another  part  of  the  field,  the 
earl  of  March  and  Dunbar  combated  valiantly ;  and  the  Eng 
lish  gave  the  Scots  full  employment  who  had  followed  the  earl 
of  Douglas,  and  had  engaged  with  the  two  Percies.  The  earl 
of  Moray  behaved  so  gallantly  in  pursuing  the  English,  that 
they  knew  not  how  to  resist  him.  Of  all  the  battles  that  have 
been  described  in  this  history,  great  and  small,  this  of  which  I 
am  now  speaking  was  the  best  fought  and  the  most  severe; 
for  there  was  not  a  man,  knight,  or  squire  who  did  not  acquit 
himself  gallantly,  hand  to  hand  with  the  enemy.  It  resembled 
something  that  of  Cocherel,  which  was  as  long  and  as  hardily 
disputed.  The  sons  of  the  earl  of  Northumberland,  Sir 


THE  BATTLE  OF  OTTERBOURNE.          377 

Henry  and  Sir  Ralph  Percy,  who  were  the  leaders  of  this 
expedition,  behaved  themselves  like  good  knights  in  the  com 
bat.  Almost  a  similar  accident  befel  Sir  Ralph  as  that  which 
happened  to  the"*earl  of  Douglas;  for,  having  advanced  too 
far,  he  was  surrounded  by  tfie  enemy  and  severely  wounded, 
and,  being  out  of  breath,  surrendered  himself  to  a  Scots 
knight,  called  Sir  John  Maxwell,  who  was  under  the  com 
mand  and  of  the  household  of  the  earl  of  Moray. 

When  made  prisoner,  the  knight  asked  him  who  he  was,  for 
it  was  dark,  and  he  knew  him  not.  Sir  Ralph  was  so  weak 
ened  by  loss  of  blood,  which  was  flowing  from  his  wound, 
that  he  could  scarcely  avow  himself  to  be  Sir  Ralph  Percy. 
"Well,"  replied  the  knight,  "  Sir  Ralph,  rescued  or  not,  you 
are  my  prisoner  ;  my  name  is  Maxwell."  "  I  agree  to  it,"  said 
Sir  Ralph.  "But  pay  some  attention  to  me  ;  for  I  am  so  des 
perately  wounded,  that  my  drawers  and  greaves  are  full  of 
blood."  Upon  this  the  Scots  knight  was  very  attentive  to  him ; 
when  suddenly  hearing  the  cry  of  Moray  hard  by,  and  per 
ceiving  the  earl's  banner  advancing  to  him,  Sir  John  addressed 
himself  to  the  earl  of  Moray,  and  said,  "  My  lord,  I  present 
you  with  Sir  Ralph  Percy  as  a  prisoner;  but  let  good  care  be 
taken  of  him,  for  he  is  very  badly  wounded."  The  earl  was 
much  pleased  at  this,  and  replied,  "Maxwell,  thou  hast  well 
earned  thy  spurs  this  day."  He  then  ordered  his  men  to  take 
every  care  of  Sir  Ralph,  who  bound  up  and  staunched  his 
wounds.  The  battle  still  continued  to  rage,  and  no  one  could 
say  at  that  moment  which  side  would  be  the  conqueror,  for 
there  were  very  many  captures  and  rescues  that  never  came  to 
my  knowledge. 

The  young  earl  of  Douglas  had  this  night  performed  won 
ders  in  arms.  When  he  was  struck  down  there  was  a  great 
crowd  round  him,  and  he  could  not  raise  himself;  for  the  blow 
on  his  head  was  mortal.  His  men  had  followed  him  as  closely 
as  they  were  able,  and  there  came  to  him  his  cousins,  Sir 
James  Lindsay,  Sir  John  and  Sir  Walter  Sinclair,  with  other 
knights  and  squires.  They  found  by  his  side  a  gallant  knight, 
that  had  constantly  attended  him,  who  was  his  chaplain,  and 
had  at  this  time  exchanged  his  profession  for  that  of  a  valiant 


378  THE    KNIGHTS    OF    ENGLISH    HISTORY. 

man-at-arms.  The  whole  night  he  had  followed  the  earl,  with 
his  battle-axe  in  hand,  and  had  by  his  exertions  more  than 
once  repelled  the  English.  This  conduct  gained  the  thanks  of 
his  countrymen,  and  turned  out  to  his  advantage,  for  in  the 
same  year  he  was  promoted  to  the  archdeaconry,  and  made 
canon  of  Aberdeen.  His  name  was  Sir  William  of  North 
Berwick.  To  say  the  truth,  he  was  well  formed  in  all  his 
limbs  to  shine  in  battle,  and  was  severely  wounded  at  this 
combat.  When  these  knights  came  to  the  earl  of  Douglas 
they  found  him  in  a  melancholy  state,  as  well  as  one  of  his 
knights,  Sir  Robert  Hart,  who  had  fought  by  his  side  the 
whole  of  the  night,  and  now  lay  beside  him,  covered  with 
fifteen  wounds  from  lances  and  other  weapons. 

Sir  John  Sinclair  asked  the  earl,  "  Cousin,  how  fares  it  with 
you?"  "But  so  so,"  replied  he.  "Thanks  to  God,  there  are 
but  few  of  my  ancestors  who  have  died  in  chambers  or  in 
their  beds.  I  bid  you,  therefore,  revenge  my  death,  for  I  have 
but  little  hope  of  living,  as  rny  heart  becomes  every  minute 
more  faint.  Do  you,  Walter  and  Sir  John  Sinclair,  raise  up 
my  banner,  for  certainly  it  is  on  the  ground,  from  the  death  of 
David  Campbell,  that  valiant  squire  who  bore  it,  and  who  re 
fused  knighthood  from  my  hands  this  day,  though  he  was 
equal  to  the  most  eminent  knights  for  courage  and  loyalty; 
and  continue  to  shout  '  Douglas  ! '  but  do  not  tell  friend  or  foe 
whether  I  am  in  your  company  or  not ;  for,  should  the  enemy 
know  the  truth,  they  will  be  greatly  rejoiced." 

The  two  brothers  Sinclair  and  Sir  John  Lindsay  obeyed  his 
orders.  The  banner  was  raised,  and  "Douglas!"  shouted. 
Their  men,  who  had  remained  behind,  hearing  the  shouts  of 
"Douglas!"  so  often  repeated,  ascended  a  small  eminence, 
and  pushed  their  lances  with  such  courage  that  the  English 
were  repulsed,  and  many  killed  or  struck  to  the  ground.  The 
Scots,  by  thus  valiantly  driving  the  enemy  beyond  the  spot 
where  the  earl  of  Douglas  lay  dead,  —  for  he  had  expired  on 
giving  his  last  orders,  —  arrived  at  his  banner,  which  was 
borne  by  Sir  John  Sinclair.  Numbers  were  continually  in 
creasing,  from  the  repeated  shouts  of  "Douglas!"  and  the 
greater  part  of  the  Scots  knights  and  squires  were  now  there. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  OTTEKBOURNE.          379 

The  earls  of  Moray  and  March,  with  their  banners  and  men, 
came  thither  also.  When  they  were  all  thus  collected,  per 
ceiving  the  English  retreat,  they  renewed  the  battle  with 
greater  vigor  than  before. 

To  say  the  truth,  the  Erfglish  had  harder  work  than  the 
Scots,  for  they  had  come  by  a  forced  march  that  evening  from 
Newcastle-on-Tyne,  which  was  eight  English  leagues  distant, 
to  meet  the  Scots,  by  which  means  the  greater  part  were  ex 
ceedingly  fatigued  before  the  combat  began.  The  Scots,  on 
the  contrary,  had  reposed  themselves,  which  was  to  them  of 
the  utmost  advantage,  as  was  apparent  from  the  event  of  the 
battle.  In  this  last  attack  they  so  completely  repulsed  the 
English,  that  the  latter  could  never  rally  again,  and  the  former 
drove  them  far  beyond  where  the  earl  of  Douglas  lay  on  the 
ground.  Sir  Henry  Percy,  during  this  attack,  had  the  misfor 
tune  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  Lord  Montgomery,  a  very 
valiant  knight  of  Scotland.  They  had  long  fought  hand  to 
hand  with  much  valor,  and  without  hindrance  from  any  one ; 
for  there  was  neither  knight  nor  squire  of  either  party  who 
did  not  find  there  his  equal  to  fight  with,  and  all  were  fully 
engaged.  In  the  end,  Sir  Henry  was  made  prisoner  by  the 
Lord  Montgomery. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

EDWARD  THE  BLACK  PRINCE. 
"ICH  DIEN." 

fTlHE  last  hero  of  English  chivalry  with  whom  we  have  to  do 
J-  is  Edward  the  Black  Prince.  And  as  the  most  characteristic 
part  of  the  knighthood  of  this  most  knightly  of  English  princes, 
we  have  selected  the  battles  of  Crecy  and  of  Poitiers. 

THE  BATTLE  OF  CRECY. 

The  English,  who  were  drawn  up  in  three  divisions,  and 
seated  on  the  ground,  on  seeing  their  enemies  advance,  rose 
undauntedly  up,  and  fell  into  their  ranks.  That  of  the  prince* 
wras  the  first  to  do  so,  whose  archers  were  formed  in  the  manner 
of  a  portcullis  or  harrow,  and  the  men-at-arms  in  the  rear.  The 
earls  of  Northumberland  and  Arundel,  who  commanded  the 
second  division,  had  posted  themselves  in  good  order  on  his 
wing,  to  assist  and  succor  the  prince  if  necessary. 

*  Edward  the  Black  Prince ;  son  of  Edward  III. 
380 


EDWARD    THE    BLACK    PRINCE.  381 

You  must  know  that  these  kings,  earls,  barons,  and  lords  of 
France  did  not  advance  in  any  regular  order,  but  one  after  the 
other,  or  anyway  most  pleasing  to  themselves.  As  soon  as  the 
king  of  France  came  in  sight  pf  the  English,  his  blood  began  to 
boil,  and  he  cried  out  to  his  marshals,  "  Order  the  Genoese 
forward,  and  begin  the  battle,  in  the  name  of  God  and  St. 
Denis."  There  were  about  fifteen  thousand  Genoese  cross- 
bowmen,  but  they  were  quite  fatigued,  having  marched  on  foot 
that  day  six  leagues,  completely  armed  and  with  their  cross 
bows.  They  told  the  constable  they  were  not  in  a  fit  condition 
to  do  any  great  things  that  day  in  battle.  The  earl  of  Alei^on, 
hearing  this,  said,  "This  is  what  one  gets  by  employing  such 
scoundrels,  who  fall  oft'  when  there  is  any  need  of  them." 
During  this  time  a  heavy  rain  fell,  accompanied  by  thunder 
and  a  very  terrible  eclipse  of  the  sun ;  and  before  this  rain  a 
great  flight  of  crows  hovered  in  the  air  over  all  those  battalions, 
making  a  loud  noise.  Shortly  afterwards  it  cleared  up,  and 
the  sun  shone  very  bright,  but  the  Frenchmen  had  it  in  their 
faces,  and  the  Englishmen  in  their  backs.  When  the  Genoese 
were  somewhat  in  order,  and  approached  the  English,  they  set 
up  a  loud  shout,  in  order  to  frighten  them ;  but  they  remained 
quite  still,  and  did  not  seem  to  attend  to  it.  Then  they  set  up 
a  second  shout,  and  advanced  a  little  forward,  but  the  English 
never  moved.  They  hooted  a  third  time,  advancing  with  their 
crossbows  presented,  and  began  to  shoot.  The  English  archers 
then  advanced  one  step  forward,  and  shot  their  arrows  with 
such  force  and  quickness  that  it  seemed  as  if  it  snowed.  When 
the  Genoese  felt  these  arrows,  which  pierced  their  arms,  heads, 
and  through  their  armor,  some  of  them  cut  the  strings  of  their 
crossbows,  others  flung  them  on  the  ground,  and  all  turned 
about  and  retreated  quite  discomfited.  The  French  had  a 
large  body  of  men-at-arms  on  horseback,  richly  dressed,  to 
support  the  Genoese.  The  king  of  France,  seeing  them  thus 
fall  back,  cried  out,  "  Kill  me  those  scoundrels,  for  they  stop  up 
our  road  without  any  reason."  You  would  then  have  seen  the 
above-mentioned  men-at-arms  lay  about  them,  killing  all  they 
could  of  these  runaways. 

The  English  continued  shooting  as  vigorously  and  quickly  as 


382  THE    KNIGHTS    OF    ENGLISH   HISTORY. 

before;  some  of  their  arrows  fell  among  the  horsemen  who 
were  sumptuously  equipped,  and,  killing  and  wounding  many, 
made  them  caper  and  fall  among  the  Genoese,  so  that  they 
were  in  such  confusion  that  they  could  never  rally  again.  The 
valiant  king  of  Bohemia  was  slain  there.  He  was  called 
Charles  of  Luxembourg,  for  he  was  the  son  of  the  gallant  king 
and  emperor,  Henry  of  Luxembourg.  Having  heard  the  order 
of  the  battle,  he  inquired  where  his  son,  the  lord  Charles,  was. 
His  attendants  answered  that  they  did  not  know,  but  believed 
he  was  fighting.  The  king  said  to  them,  "  Gentlemen,  you  are 
all  my  people,  my  friends  and  brethren  at  arms  this  day  ;  there 
fore,  as  I  am  blind,  I  request  of  you  to  lead  me  so  far  into  the 
engagement  that  I  may  strike  one  stroke  with  my  sword."  The 
knights  replied  they  would  directly  lead  him  forward ;  and  in 
order  that  they  might  not  lose  him  in  the  crowd,  they  fastened 
all  the  reins  of  their  horses  together,  and  put  the  king  at  their 
head,  that  he  might  gratify  his  wish,  and  advanced  towards  the 
enemy.  The  lord  Charles  of  Bohemia,  who  already  signed  his 
name  as  king  of  Germany,  and  bore  the  arms,  had  come  in 
good  order  to  the  engagement ;  but  when  he  perceived  that  it 
was  likely  to  turn  against  the  French,  he  ^departed,  and  I  do 
not  well  know  what  road  he  took.  The  king,  his  father,  had 
rode  in  among  the  enemy,  and  made  good  use  of  his  sword, 
for  he  and  his  companions  had  fought  most  gallantly.  They 
had  advanced  so  far  that  they  were  all  slain;  and  on  the 
morrow  they  were  found  on  the  ground,  with  their  horses  all 
tied  together. 

The  earl  of  Alen9on  advanced  in  regular  order  upon  the  Eng 
lish  to  fight  with  them,  as  did  the  earl  of  Flanders  in  another  part. 
These  two  lords,  with  their  detachments,  coasting,  as  it  were, 
the  archers,  came  to  the  prince's  battalion,  where  they  fought 
valiantly  for  a  length  of  time.  The  king  of  France  was  eager 
to  march  to  the  place  where  he  saw  their  banners  displayed, 
but  there  was  a  hedge  of  archers  before  him.  He  had  that  day 
made  a  present  of  a  handsome  black  horse  to  Sir  John  of 
Hainault,  who  had  mounted  on  it  a  knight  of  his  that  bore  his 
banner,  which  horse  ran  oft  with  him  and  forced  his  way 
through  the  English  army,  and,  when  about  to  return,  stumbled 


EDWARD   THE    BLACK    PRINCE.  383 

and  fell  into  a  ditch  and  severely  wounded  him.  He  would 
have  been  dead  if  his  page  had  not  followed  him  round  the 
battalions,  and  found  him  unable  to  rise.  He  had  not,  however, 
any  other  hindrance  than  from  his  horse ;  for  the  English  did 
not  quit  the  ranks  that  day  to  make  prisoners.  The  page 
alighted,  and  raised  him  up  ;  but  he  did  not  return  the  way  he 
came,  as  he  would  have  found  it  difficult  from  the  crowd. 

This  battle,  which  was  fought  on  a  Saturday  between  la 
Broyes  and  Crecy,  was  very  murderous  and  cruel;  and  many 
gallant  deeds  of  arms  were  performed  that  were  never  known. 
Towards  evening,  many  knights  and  squires  of  the  French 
had  lost  their  masters.  They  wandered  up  and  down  the 
plain,  attacking  the  English  in  small  parties.  They  were  soon 
destroyed,  for  the  English  had  determined  that  day  to  give 
no  quarter,  or  hear  of  ransom  from  any  one. 

Early  in  the  day,  some  French,  Germans,  and  Savoyards  had 
broken  through  the  archers  of  the  prince's  battalion  and  had 
engaged  with  the  men-at-arms;  upon  which  the  second 
battalion  came  to  his  aid,  and  it  was  time,  for  otherwise  he 
would  have  been  hard  pressed.  The  first  division,  seeing  the 
danger  they  were  in,  sent  a  knight  in  great  haste  to  the  king 
of  England,  who  was  posted  upon  an  eminence  near  a  wind 
mill.  On  the  knight's  arrival,  he  said,  "Sir,  the  earl  of 
Warwick,  the  lord  Stafford,  the  lord  Reginald  Cobham,  and 
the  others  who  are  about  your  son,  are  vigorously  attacked  by 
the  French;  and  they  entreat  that  you  would  come  to  their 
assistance  with  your  battalion,  for,  if  their  numbers  should 
increase,  they  fear  he  will  have  too  much  to  do."  The  king 
replied,  "Is  my  son  dead,  unhorsed,  or  so  badly  wounded  that  • 
he  cannot  support  himself?"  "Nothing  of  the  sort,  thank 
God,"  rejoined  the  knight;  "but  he  is  in  so  hot  an  engagement 
that  he  has  great  need  of  your  help."  The  king  answered, 
"Now,  Sir  Thomas,  return  back  to  those  that  sent  you,  and 
tell  them  from  me,  not  to  send  again  for  me  this  day,  or  expect 
that  I  shall  come,  let  what  will  happen,  as  long  as  my  son  has 
life;  and  say  that  I  command  them  to  let  the  boy  win  his 
spurs;  for  I  am  determined,  if  it  please  God,  that  all  the  glory 
and  honor  of  this  day  shall  be  given  to  him,  and  to  those  into 


384  THE    KNIGHTS    OF    ENGLISH    HISTORY. 

whose  care  I  have  entrusted  him."  The  knight  returned  to  his 
lords,  and  related  the  king's  answer,  which  mightily  encouraged 
them,  and  made  them  repent  they  ever  sent  such  a  message. 

Late  after  vespers  the  king  of  France  had  not  more  about 
him  than  sixty  men,  every  one  included.  Sir  John  of  Hai- 
nault,  who  was  of  the  number,  had  once  remounted  the  king ;  for 
his  horse  had  been  killed  under  him  by  an  arrow.  He  said  to 
the  king,  "  Sir,  retreat  whilst  you  have  an  opportunity,  and  do 
not  expose  yourself  so  simply;  if  you  have  lost  this  battle, 
another  time  you  will  be  the  conqueror."  After  he  had  said 
this,  he  took  the  bridle  of  the  king's  horse  and  led  him  off  by 
force,  for  he  had  before  entreated  him  to  retire.  The  king 
rode  on  until  he  came  to  the  castle  of  la  Broyes,  where  he 
found  the  gates  shut,  for  it  was  very  dark.  The  king  ordered 
the  governor  of  it  to  be  summoned.  He  came  upon  the  battle 
ments,  and  asked  who  it  was  that  called  at  such  an  hour.  The 
king  answered,  "  Open,  open,  governor ;  it  is  the  fortune  of 
France."  The  governor,  hearing  the  king's  voice,  immediately 
descended,  opened  the  gate,  and  let  down  the  bridge.  The 
king  and  his  company  entered  the  castle ;  but  he  had  only  with 
him  five  barons,  Sir  John  of  Hainault  and  four  more.  The 
king  would  not  bury  himself  in  such  a  place  as  that,  but,  hav 
ing  taken  some  refreshments,  set  out  again  with  his  attendants 
about  midnight,  and  rode  on,  under  the  direction  of  guides  who 
were  well  acquainted  with  the  country,  until,  about  daybreak, 
he  came  to  Amiens,  where  he  halted.  This  Saturday  the 
English  never  quitted  their  ranks  in  pursuit  of  any  one,  but 
remained  on  the  field,  guarding  their  position,  and  defending 
themselves  against  all  who  attacked  them.  The  battle  was 
ended  at  the  hour  of  vespers. 

When  on  this  Saturday  night,  the  English  heard  no  more 
hooting  or  shouting,  nor  any  more  crying  out  to  particular 
lords  or  their  banners,  they  looked  upon  the  field  as  their  own, 
and  their  enemies  as  beaten.  They  made  great  fires  and 
lighted  torches  because  of  the  obscurity  of  the  night.  King 
Edward  then  came  down  from  his  post,  who  all  that  day  had 
not  put  on  his  helmet,  and,  with  his  whole  battalion,  advanced 
to  the  prince  of  Wales,  whom  he  embraced  in  his  arms  and 


EDWARD    THE    BLACK    PRINCE.  385 

kissed,  and  said,  "  Sweet  son,  God  give  you  good  perseverance; 
you  are  my  son,  for  most  loyally  have  you  acquitted  yourself 
this  day ;  you  are  worthy  to  be  a  sovereign."  The  prince 
bowed  down  very  low  and  humbled  himself,  giving  all  honor 
to  the  king,  his  father.  The  English  during  the  night  made 
frequent  thanksgiving  to  the  Lord  for  the  happy  issue  of  the 
day,  and  without  rioting ;  for  the  king  had  forbidden  all  riot 
or  noise. 

At  Crecy  the  Black  Prince  won  his  spurs,  but  the  great 
achievement  of  his  life  was  his  victory  at  Poitiers,  —  a  battle 
fought  by  him  alone  with  his  army,  when  his  father,  Edward 
III.,  was  absent  from  France  in  England.  At  the  peace  of 
Bretagne,  agreed  upon  after  the  battle,  several  provinces  were 
ceded  by  France  to  England,  and  these  Edward  added  to  his 
dominions  in  Guienne,  and  formed  for  himself  a  separate  king 
dom,  which  he  ruled  until  his  death.  He  never  came  to  the 
throne  of  England;  his  son,  Richard  II.,  succeeded  Edward  III. 

THE  BATTLE  OP  POITIERS. 

On  Sunday  morning,  the  king  of  France,  who  was  very 
impatient  to  combat  the  English,  ordered  a  solemn  mass  to  be 
sung  in  his  pavilion,  and  he  and  his  four  sons  received  the 
communion.  Mass  being  over,  there  came  to  him  many  barons 
of  France,  as  well  as  other  great  lords  who  held  fiefs  in  the 
neighborhood,  according  to  a  summons  they  had  received  for 
a  council.  They  were  a  considerable  time  debating  ;  at  last  it 
was  ordered  that  the  whole  army  should  advance  into  the 
plain,  and  that  each  lord  should  display  his  banner,  and  push 
forward  in  the  name  of  God  and  St.  Denis.  Upon  this  the 
trumpets  of  the  army  sounded,  and  every  one  got  himself 
ready,  mounted  his  horse,  and  made  for  that  part  of  the  plain 
where  the  king's  banner  was  fluttering  in  the  wind.  There 
might  be  seen  all  the  nobility  of  France,  richly  dressed  out  in 
brilliant  armor,  with  banners  and  pennons  gallantly  displayed ; 
for  all  the  flower  of  the  French  nobility  was  there  ;  no  knight 
nor  squire,  for  fear  of  dishonor,  dared  to  remain  at  home.  By 
the  advice  of  the  constable  and  the  marshals,  the  army  was 


386  THE    KNIGHTS    OF   ENGLISH    HISTORY. 

divided  into  three  battalions,  each  consisting  of  sixteen  thou 
sand  men-at-arms,  who  had  before  shown  themselves  men  of 
tried  courage.  The  duke  of  Orleans  commanded  the  first  bat 
talion,  where  there  were  thirty-six  banners  and  twice  as  many 
pennons.  The  second  was  under  command  of  the  duke  of 
Normandy,  and  his  two  brothers,  the  lord  Lewis  and  lord 
John.  The  king  of  France  commanded  the  third. 

Whilst  these  battalions  were  forming,  the  king  called  to  him 
the  lord  Eustace  de  Ribeaumont,  the  lord  John  de  Landas,  and 
the  lord  Guiscard  de  Beaujeu,  and  said  to  them,  "Ride  for 
ward  as  near  the  English  army  as  you  can,  and  observe  their 
countenance,  taking  notice  of  their  numbers,  and  examine 
which  will  be  the  most  advantageous  manner  to  combat  them, 
whether  on  horseback  or  on  foot."  The  three  knights  left  the 
king  to  obey  his  commands.  The  king  was  mounted  on  a 
white  palfrey,  and,  riding  to  the  head  of  his  army,  said  aloud, 
"You  men  of  Paris,  Chartres,  Rouen,  and  Orleans,  have  been 
used  to  threaten  what  you  would  do  to  the  English  if  you 
could  find  them,  and  wished  much  to  meet  them  in  arms ;  now 
that  wish  shall  be  granted.  I  will  lead  you  to  them,  and  let 
us  see  how  you  will  revenge  yourselves  for  all  the  mischief  and 
damage  they  have  done  you.  Be  assured  we  will  not  part 
without  fighting."  Those  who  heard  him  replied,  "Sir, 
through  God's  assistance  we  will  most  cheerfully  meet  them." 

At  this  instant  the  three  knights  returned,  and  pushing 
through  the  crowd,  came  to  the  king,  who  asked  what  news 
they  had  brought.  Sir  Eustace  de  Ribeaumont,  whom  his 
companions  had  requested  to  be  their  spokesman,  answered, 
"Sir,  we  have  observed  accurately  the  English;  they  may 
amount,  according  to  our  estimate,  to  about  two  thousand 
men-at-arms,  four  thousand  archers,  and  fifteen  hundred  foot 
men.  They  are  in  a  very  strong  position  ;  but  we  do  not 
imagine  they  can  make  more  than  one  battalion  ;  nevertheless, 
they  have  posted  themselves  with  great  judgment,  have  forti 
fied  all  the  road  along  the  hedge  side,  and  lined  the  hedges 
with  part  of  their  archers ;  for,  as  that  is  the  only  road  for  an 
attack,  one  must  pass  through  the  midst  of  them.  This  lane 
has  no  other  entry ;  for  it  is  so  narrow,  that  scarcely  can  four 


EDWARD   THE    BLACK   PRINCE.  387 

men  ride  abreast  in  it.  At  the  end  of  this  lane,  amidst  vines 
and  thorns,  where  it  is  impossible  to  ride  or  march  in  any  reg 
ular  order,  are  posted  the  men-at-arms  on  foot;  and  they  have 
drawn  up  before,  them  their  archers  in  the  manner  of  a  harrow, 
so  that  it  will  be  no  easy  matter  to  defeat  them."  The  king 
asked  in  what  manner  they  would  advise  him  to  attack  them. 
"  Sir,"  replied  Sir  Eustace,  "on  foot;  except  three  hundred  of 
the  most  expert,  to  break,  if  possible,  this  body  of  archers ; 
and  then  your  battalions  must  advance  quickly  on  foot,  attack 
the  men-at-arms  hand  to  hand,  and  combat  them  valiantly. 
This  is  the  best  advice  that  I  can  give  you,  and  if  any  one 
know  a  better,  let  him  say  it."  The  king  replied,  "  Thus  shall 
it  be,  then."  And,  in  company  with  his  two  marshals,  he  rode 
from  battalion  to  battalion,  and  selected,  in  conformity  to  their 
opinions,  three  hundred  knights  and  squires  of  the  greatest 
repute  in  his  army,  each  well  armed,  and  mounted  on  the  best 
of  horses.  Soon  after,  the  battalion  of  the  Germans  was 
formed,  who  were  to  remain  on  horseback,  to  assist  the  mar 
shals  ;  they  were  commanded  by  the  earls  of  Salzburg,  Neydo, 
and  Nassau.  King  John  was  armed  in  royal  armor,  and  nine 
teen  others  like  him. 

When  the  battalions  of  the  king  of  France  were  drawn  up, 
and  each  lord  posted  under  his  proper  banner,  and  informed 
how  they  were  to  act,  it  was  ordered  that  all  those  who  were 
armed  with  lances  should  shorten  them  to  the  length  of  five 
feet,  that  they  might  be  the  more  manageable,  and  that  every 
one  should  take  off  his  spurs.  As  the  French  were  on  the 
point  of  marching  to  their  enemies,  the  cardinal  of  Perigord, 
who  had  left  Poitiers  that  morning  early,  came  full  gallop  to 
the  king,  making  him  a  low  reverence,  and  entreated  him  that 
he  might  be  allowed  to  go  to  the  prince  of  Wales,  to  endeavor 
to  make  peace  between  him  and  the  king  of  France.  The 
king  answered,  "It  is  very  agreeable  to  us;  but  make  haste 
back  again." 

So  then  the  cardinal  set  off,  and  went  in  all  speed  to  the 
prince ;  but  though  he  spent  all  this  Sunday  in  riding  from 
one  army  to  another,  he  could  not  make  terms  which  were 
thought  honorable  alike  by  the  king  and  by  the  prince  of 


388  THE    KNIGHTS    OF   ENGLISH   HISTORY. 

Wales.  That  same  day,  the  French  kept  in  their  quarters, 
where  they  lived  at  their  ease,  having  plenty  of  provisions  ; 
whilst  the  English,  on  the  other  hand,  were  but  badly  off,  nor  did 
they  know  whither  to  go  for  forage,  as  they  were  so  straitly 
kept  by  the  French  they  could  not  move  without  danger. 
This  Sunday  they  made  many  mounds  and  ditches  round 
where  the  archers  were  posted,  the  better  to  secure  them. 

On  Monday  morning  the  prince  and  his  army  were  soon  in 
readiness,  and  as  well  arranged  as  on  the  former  day.  The 
French  were  also  drawn  out  by  sunrise.  The  cardinal,  re 
turning  again  that  morning,  imagined  that  by  his  exhortations 
he  could  pacify  both  parties;  but  the  French  told  him  to 
return  when  he  pleased,  and  not  attempt  bringing  them  any 
more  treaties  or  pacifications,  else  worse  might  betide  him. 
When  the  cardinal  saw  that  he  labored  in  vain,  he  took  leave 
of  the  king  of  France,  and  set  out  toward  the  prince  of 
Wales,  to  whom  he  said,  "Fair  son,  exert  yourself  as  much  as 
possible,  for  there  must  be  a  battle ;  I  cannot  by  any  means 
pacify  the  king  of  France."  The  prince  replied,  "that  such 
were  the  intentions  of  him  and  his  army;  and  God  defend 
the  right."  The  cardinal  then  took  leave  of  him,  and  returned 
to  Poitiers. 

The  arrangement  of  the  prince's  army,  in  respect  to  the 
battalions,  was  exactly  the  same  as  what  the  three  knights 
before  named  had  related  to  the  king  of  France,  except  that 
at  this  time  he  had  ordered  some  valiant  and  intelligent 
knights  to  remain  on  horseback,  similar  to  the  battalion  of  the 
French  marshals,  and  had  also  commanded  three  hundred 
men-at-arms,  and  as  many  archers  on  horseback,  to  post  them 
selves  on  the  right,  on  a  small  hill,  that  was  not  too  steep  nor 
too  high,  and,  by  passing  over  its  summit,  to  get  round  the 
wings  of  the  duke  of  Normandy's  battalions,  who  was  in  per 
son  at  the  foot  of  it.  These  were  all  the  alterations  the 
prince  had  made  in  his  order  of  battle;  he  himself  was  with 
the  main  body,  in  the  midst  of  the  vineyards,  the  whole  com 
pletely  armed,  with  their  horses  near,  if  there  should  be  any 
occasion  for  them.  They  had  fortified  and  inclosed  the 
weaker  parts  with  their  wagons  and  baggage. 


EDWARD   THE    BLACK    PRINCE.  389 

And  when  the  prince  of  Wales  saw,  from  the  departure  of 
the  cardinal  without  being  able  to  obtain  any  honorable  terms, 
that  a  battle  was  inevitable,  and  that  the  king  of  France  held 
both  him  and  hts  army  in  great  contempt,  he  thus  addressed 
himself  to  them :  "  Now,  niy  gallant  fellows,  what  though  we 
be  a  small  body  when  compared  to  the  army  of  our  enemies ; 
do  not  let  us  be  cast  down  on  that  account,  for  victory  does  not 
always  follow  numbers,  but  where  the  Almighty  God  pleases  to 
bestow  it.  If,  through  good  fortune,  the  day  shall  be  ours, 
we  will  gain  the  greatest  honor  and  glory  in  this  world ;  if  the 
contrary  should  happen,  and  we  be  slain,  I  have  a  father  and 
beloved  brethren  alive,  and  you  all  have  some  relations  or  good 
friends,  who  will  be  sure  to  revenge  our  deaths.  I  therefore 
entreat  of  you  to  exert  yourselves,  and  combat  manfully;  for, 
if  it  please  God  and  St.  George,  you  shall  see  me  this  day  act 
like  a  true  knight."  By  such  words  and  arguments  as  these 
the  prince  harangued  his  men,  as  did  the  marshals,  by  his 
orders,  so  that  they  were  all  in  high  spirits.  Sir  John  Chandos 
placed  himself  near  the  prince,  to  guard  and  advise  him;  and 
never,  during  that  day,  would  he,  on  any  account,  quit  his 
post. 

The  lord  James  Audley  remained  also  a  considerable  time 
near  him ;  but,  when  he  saw  that  they  must  certainly  engage, 
he  said  to  the  prince :  "  Sir,  I  have  ever  served  most  loyally 
my  lord  your  father,  and  yourself,  and  shall  continue  so  to  do 
as  long  as  I  have  life.  Dear  sir,  I  must  now  acquaint  you  that 
formerly  I  made  a  vow,  if  ever  I  should  be  engaged  in  any 
battle  where  the  king,  your  father,  or  any  of  his  sons  were, 
that  I  would  be  the  foremost  in  the  attack,  and  the  best 
combatant  on  his  side,  or  die  in  the  attempt.  I  beg,  therefore, 
most  earnestly,  as  a  reward  for  any  services  I  may  have  done, 
that  you  would  grant  me  permission  honorably  to  quit  you, 
that  I  may  post  myself  in  such  wise  to  accomplish  my  vow." 
The  prince  granted  this  request,  and,  holding  out  his  hand  to 
him,  said:  "  Sir  James,  God  grant  that  this  day  you  may  shine 
in  valor  above  all  other  knights."  The  knight  then  set  off, 
and  posted  himself  at  the  front  of  the  battalion,  with  only  four 
squires  whom  he  had  detained  with  him  to  guard  his  person. 


390  THE    KNIGHTS    OF   ENGLISH    HISTORY. 

The  lord  James  was  a  prudent  and  valiant  knight ;  and  by  his 
advice  the  army  had  thus  been  drawn  up  in  order  of  battle. 
The  lord  James  began  to  advance,  in  order  to  fight  with  the 
battalion  of  the  marshals.  Sir  Eustace  d'  Ambreticourt,  being 
mounted,  placed  his  lance  in  its  rest,  and,  fixing  his  shield, 
struck  spurs  into  Ids  horse  and  galloped  up  to  this  battalion. 
A  German  knight,  perceiving  Sir  Eustace  quit  his  army,  left 
his  battalion  that  was  under  the  command  of  earl  John  of 
Nassau,  and  made  up  to  him.  The  shock  of  their  meeting  was 
so  violent  that  they  both  fell  to  the  ground.  The  German  was 
wounded  in  the  shoulder,  so  that  he  could  not  rise  again  so 
nimbly  as  Sir  Eustace,  who,  when  upon  his  legs,  after  he  had 
taken  breath,  was  hastening  to  the  knight  that  lay  on  the 
ground ;  but  five  German  men-at-arms  came  upon  him,  struck 
him  down,  and  made  him  prisoner.  They  led  him  to  those 
that  were  attached  to  the  earl  of  Nassau,  who  did  not  pay 
much  attention  to  him,  nor  do  I  know  if  they  made  him  swear 
himself  their  prisoner;  but  they  tied  him  to  a  car  with  some  of 
their  harness. 

The  engagement  now  began  on  both  sides,  and  the  battalion 
of  the  marshals  was  advancing  before  those  who  were  intended 
to  break  the  battalion  of  the  archers,  and  had  entered  the  lane 
where  the  hedges  on  both  sides  were  lined  by  the  archers,  who, 
as  soon  as  they  saw  them  fairly  entered,  began  shooting  with 
their  bows  in  such  an  excellent  manner  from  each  side  of  the 
hedge,  that  the  horses,  smarting  under  the  pain  of  the  wounds 
made  by  their  bearded  arrows,  would  not  advance,  but  turned 
about,  and,  by  their  unruliness,  threw  their  masters,  who  could 
not  manage  them ;  nor  could  those  that  had  fallen  get  up  again 
for  the  confusion,  so  that  this  battalion  of  the  marshals  could 
never  approach  that  of  the  prince.  However,  there  were  some 
knights  and  squires  so  well  mounted,  that  by  the  strength  of 
their  horses  they  passed  through  and  broke  the  hedge,  but,  in 
spite  of  their  efforts,  could  not  get  up  to  the  battalion  of  the 
prince.  The  lord  James  Audley,  attended  by  his  four  squires, 
had  placed  himself,  sword  in  hand,  in  front  of  this  battalion 
much  before  the  rest,  and  was  performing  wonders.  lie  had 
advanced  through  his  eagerness  so  far  that  he  engaged  the  lord 


EDWARD    THE    BLACK    PRINCE.  391 

Arnold  d'Andreghen,  marshal  of  France,  under  his  banner 
\vheu  they  fought  a  considerable  time,  and  the  lord  Arnold 
was  roughly  enough  treated.  The  battalion  of  the  marshals 
was  soon  after  put-to  the  rout  by  the  arrows  of  the  archers  and 
the  assistance  of  the  men-at-sirms,  who  rushed  among  them  as 
they  were  struck  down  and  seized  and  slew  them  at  their 
pleasure.  The  lord  Arnold  d'Andreghen  was  there  made 
prisoner,  but  by  others  than  the  lord  James  Audley  or  his  four 
squires,  for  that  knight  never  stopped  to  make  any  one  his 
prisoner  that  day,  but  was  the  whole  time  employed  in  fighting 
and  following  his  enemies.  In  another  part,  the  lord  John 
Clermont  fought  under  his  banner  as  long  as  he  was  able,  but 
being  struck  down,  he  could  neither  get  up  again  nor  procure 
his  ransom;  he  was  killed  on  the  spot.  In  a  short  time  this 
battalion  of  the  marshals  was  totally  discomfited  ;  for  they  fell 
back  so  much  on  each  other  that  the  army  could  not  advance, 
and  those  who  were  in  the  rear,  not  being  able  to  get  forward, 
fell  back  upon  the  battalion  commanded  by  the  duke  of  Nor 
mandy,  which  was  broad  and  thick  in  the  front,  but  it  was  soon 
thin  enough  in  the  rear;  for  when  they  learnt  that  the  marshals 
had  been  defeated,  they  mounted  their  horses  and  set  off.  At 
this  time  a  body  of  English  came  down  from  the  hill,  and,  pass 
ing  along  the  battalions  on  horseback,  accompanied  by  a  large 
body  of  archers,  fell  upon  one  of  the  wings  of  the  duke  of  Nor 
mandy's  division.  To  say  the  truth,  the  English,  archers  were 
of  infinite  service  to  their  army,  for  they  shot  so  thickly  and 
so  well  that  the  French  did  not  know  wh&t  way  to  turn  them 
selves  to  avoid  their  arrows.  By  this  means  they  kept  advanc 
ing  by  little  and  little  and  gained  ground.  When  the  English 
men-at-arms  perceived  that  the  first  battalion  was  beaten,  and 
that  the  one  under  the  duke  of  Normandy  was  in  disorder  and 
beginning  to  open,  they  hastened  to  mount  their  horses,  which 
they  had  ready  prepared  close  at  hand.  As  soon  as  they  were 
all  mounted,  they  gave  a  shout  of  "  St.  George  for  Guienne  !  " 
and  Sir  John  Chandos  said  to  the  prince,  "  Sir,  sir,  now  push 
forward,  for  the  day  is  ours.  God  will  this  day  put  it  in  your 
hand.  Let  us  make  for  our  adversary,  the  king  of  France  ;  for 
where  he  is  will  lie  the  main  stress  of  the  business.  I  well 


392  THE    KNIGHTS    OF    ENGLISH   HISTORY. 

know  that  his  valor  will  not  let  him  fly ;  and  he  will  remain 
with  us,  if  it  please  God  and  St.  George ;  but  he  must  be  well 
fought  with,  and  you  have  before  said  that  you  would  show 
yourself  this  day  a  good  knight."  The  prince  replied  :  "  John, 
get  forward ;  you  shall  not  see  me  turn  my  back  this  day,  but 
I  will  always  be  among  the  foremost."  He  then  said  to  Sir 
Walter  Woodland,  his  banner-bearer,  "Banner,  advance,  in  the 
name  of  God  and  St.  George."  The  knight  obeyed  the  com 
mands  of  the  prince;  and  the  prince  upon  this  charged  the 
division  of  the  duke  of  Athens,  and  very  sharp  the  encounter 
was,  so  that  many  were  beaten  down.  The  French,  who 
fought  in  large  bodies,  cried  out,  "Montjoye  St.  Dennis!" 
and  the  English  answered  them  with  "  St.  George  for  Guienne !  " 
The  prince  next  met  the  battalion  of  Germans  under  command 
of  the  earl  of  Salzburg,  the  earl  of  Nassau,  and  the  earl  of 
Neydo;  but  they  were  soon  overthrown  and  put  to  flight*  The 
English  archers  shot  so  well  that  none  dared  to  come  within 
reach  of  their  arrows,  and  they  put  to  death  many  who  could 
not  ransom  themselves.  Then  the  above-named  earls  were 
slain  there,  as  well  as  many  other  knights  and  squires  attached 
to  them.  In  the  confusion,  Sir  Eustace  d'Ambreticourt  was 
rescued  by  his  own  men,  who  remounted  him.  He  afterwards 
performed  many  gallant  deeds  of  arms,  and  made  good  captures 
that  day. 

When  the  battalion  of  the  duke  of  Normandy  saw  the 
prince  advancing  so  quick  upon  them,  they  bethought  them 
selves  how  to  escape.  The  sons  of  the  king,  the  duke  of  Nor 
mandy,  the  earl  of  Poitiers,  and  the  earl  of  Touraine,  who 
were  very  young,  too  easily  believed  what  those  under  whose 
management  they  were  placed  said  to  them.  However,  the 
lord  Guiscard  d'Angle  and  Sir  John  de  Saintre,  who  were  near 
the  earl  of  Poitiers,  would  not  fly,  but  rushed  into  the  thickest 
of  the  combat.  The  three  sons  of  the  king,  according  to  the 
advice  given  them,  galloped  away,  with  upwards  of  eighty 
lances  who  had  never  been  near  the  enemy,  and  took  the  road 
to  Chavigny. 

Now  the  king's  battalion  advanced  in  good  order  to  meet 
the  English;  many  hard  blows  were  given  with  swords,  battle- 


EDWARD   THE    BLACK   PRINCE.  393 

axes,  and  other  warlike  weapons.  The  king  of  France,  with 
the  lord  Philip,  his  youngest  son,  attacked  the  division  of  the 
marshals,  the  earls  of  Warwick  and  Suffolk,  and  in  this 
combat  were  engaged  many^  very  noble  lords  on  both  sides. 

The  lord  James  Audley,  'with  the  assistance  of  his  four 
squires,  was  always  engaged  in  the  heat  of  the  battle.  He 
was  severely  wounded  in  the  body,  head,  and  face  ;  and,  as 
long  as  his  breath  permitted  him,  he  maintained  the  fight  and 
advanced  forward.  He  continued  to  do  so  until  he  was 
covered  with  blood.  Then,"  toward  the  close  of  the  engage 
ment,  his  four  squires,  who  were  his  body  guard,  took  him,  and 
led  him  out  of  the  engagement,  very  weak  and  wounded, 
towards  a  hedge,  that  he  might  cool  and  take  breath.  They 
disarmed  him  as  gently  as  they  could,  in  order  to  examine  Jiis 
wounds,  dress  them,  and  sew  up  the  most  serious. 

It  often  happens  that  fortune  in  war  and  love  turns  out  more 
favorable  and  wonderful  than  could  have  been  hoped  for  or 
expected.  To  say  the  truth,  this  battle,  which  was  fought 
near  Poitiers,  in  the  plains  of  Beauvoir  and  Maupertuis,  was 
very  bloody  and  perilous.  Many  gallant  deeds  of  arms  were 
performed  that  were  never  known,  and  the  combatants  on 
either  side  suffered  much.  King  John  himself  did  wonders. 
He  was  armed  with  a  battle-axe,  with  which  he  fought  and 
defended  himself;  and  if  a  fourth  of  his  people  had  behaved  as 
well  the  day  would  have  been  his  own.  The  earl  of  Tancar- 
ville,  in  endeavoring  to  break  through  the  crowd,  was  made 
prisoner  close  to  him,  as  were  also  Sir  James  de  Bourbon,  earl 
of  Ponthieu,  and  the  lord  John  d'Artois,  earl  of  Eu.  The 
pursuit  continued  even  to  the  gates  of  Poitiers,  where  there 
was  much  slaughter  and  overthrow  of  men  and  horses ;  for  the 
inhabitants  of  Poitiers  had  shut  their  gates  and  would  suffer 
none  to  enter ;  upon  which  account  there  was  great  butchery 
on  the  causeway  before  the  gate,  where  such  numbers  were 
killed  or  wounded  that  several  surrendered  themselves  the 
moment  they  spied  an  Englishman  ;  and  there  were  many 
English  archers  who  had  four,  five,  or  six  prisoners. 

There  was  much  pressing  at  this  time  through  eagerness  to 
take  the  king ;  and  those  who  were  nearest  to  him  and  knew 


394  THE    KNIGHTS    OF   ENGLISH   HISTORY. 

him,  cried  out,  "  Surrender  yourself,  surrender  yourself,  or  you 
are  a  dead  man."  In  that  part  of  the  field  was  a  young  knight 
from  St.  Omer,  who  was  engaged  by  a  salary  in  the  service  of 
the  king  of  England.  His  name  was  Denys  de  Morbeque,  who 
for  five  years  had  attached  himself  to  the  English  on  account 
of  having  been  banished  in  his  younger  days  from  France  for  a 
murder  committed  in  an  affray  at  St.  Omer.  It  fortunately 
happened  for  this  knight  that  he  was  at  the  time  near  to  the 
king  of  France  when  he  was  so  much  pulled  about.  He  by 
dint  of  force,  for  he  was  very  strong  and  robust,  pushed 
through  the  crowd,  and  said  to  the  king  in  very  good  French, 
"Sire,  sire,  surrender  yourself."  The  king,  who  found  himself 
very  disagreeably  situated,  turning  to  him,  asked,  "  To  whom 
shall  I  surrender  myself  ;  to  whom  ?  Where  is  my  cousin,  the 
prince  of  Wales?  if  I  could  see  him  I  would  speak  to  him." 
"Sire,"  replied  Sir  Denys,  "he  is  not  here;  but  surrender 
yourself  to  me  and  I  will  lead  you  to  him."  "  Who  are  you  ?  " 
said  the  king.  "Sire,  I  am  Denys  de  Morbeque,  a  knight  from 
Artois,  but  I  serve  the  king  of  England  because  I  cannot 
belong  to  France,  having  forfeited  all  I  possess  there."  The 
king  then  gave  him  his  right-hand  glove,  and  said,  "  I  surrender 
myself  to  you."  There  was  much  crowding  and  pushing  about, 
for  every  one  was  eager  to  cry  out,  "I  have  taken  him." 
Neither  the  king  nor  his  youngest  son  Philip  were  able  to  get 
forward,  and  free  themselves  from  the  throng. 

The  prince  of  Wales,  who  was  as  courageous  as  a  lion,  took 
great  delight  that  day  to  combat  his  enemies.  Sir  John 
Chandos,  who  was  near  his  person  and  had  never  quitted  it 
during  the  whole  of  the  day,  nor  stopped  to  take  any  prisoners, 
said  to  him  toward  the  end  of  the  battle,  "  Sir,  it  will  be 
proper  for  you  to  halt  here  and  plant  your  banner  on  the  top 
of  this  bush,  which  will  serve  to  rally  your  forces  that  seem 
very  much  scattered;  for  I  do  not  see  any  banners  or  pennons 
of  the  French,  nor  any  considerable  bodies  able  to  rally 
against  us;  and  you  must  refresh  yourself  a  little,  as  I  perceive 
you  are  very  much  heated."  Upon  this,  the  banner  of  the 
prince  was  placed  on  a  high  bush ;  the  minstrels  began  to  play, 
and  trumpets  and  clarions  to  do  their  duty.  The  prince  took 


EDWARD   THE    BLACK   PRINCE.  395 

off  his  helmet,  and  the  knights  attendant  on  his  person  and 
belonging  to  his  chamber  were  soon  ready,  and  pitched  a  small 
pavilion  of  crimson  color,  which  the  prince  entered.  Liquor 
was  then  brought  to  him  and  the  other  knights  who  were  with 
him.  They  increased  every  moment ;  for  they  were  returning 
from  the  pursuit,  and  stopped  there,  surrounded  by  their 
prisoners. 

As  soon  as  the  two  marshals  were  come  back,  the  prince 
asked  them  if  they  knew  anything  of  the  king  of  France.  They 
replied,  "  No,  sir,  not  for  a  certainty  ;  but  we  believe  he  must 
be  either  killed  or  taken  prisoner,  since  he  has  never  quitted 
his  battalion."  The  prince  then,  addressing  the  earl  of  War 
wick  and  lord  Cobham,  said,  "I  beg  of  you  to  mount  your 
horses  and  ride  over  the  field,  so  that  on  your  return  you  may 
bring  me  some  certain  intelligence  of  him."  The  two  barons, 
immediately  mounting  their  horses,  left  the  prince  and  made 
for  a  small  hillock,  that  they  might  look  about  them.  From 
their  stand  they  perceived  a  crowd  of  men-at-arms  on  foot,  who 
were  advancing  very  slowly.  The  king  of  France  was  in  the 
midst  of  them,  and  in  great  danger ;  for  the  French  and  Gascons 
had  taken  him  from  Sir  Denys  de  Morbeque  and  were  disput 
ing  who  should  have  him,  the  stoutest  bawling  out,  "It  is  I  who 
have  got  him."  "No,  no,"  replied  the  others,  "  we  have  him." 
The  king  to  escape  this  peril,  said,  "  Gentlemen,  gentlemen,  I 
pray  you  conduct  me  and  my  son  in  a  courteous  manner  to  my 
cousin  the  prince ;  and  do  not  make  such  a  riot  over  my  cap 
ture,  for  I  am  so  great  a  lord  that  I  can  make  all  sufficiently 
rich."  These  words,  and  others  which  fell  from  the  king,  ap 
peased  them  a  little,  but  the  disputes  were  always  beginning 
again,  and  they  did  not  move  a  step  without  rioting.  When  the 
two  barons  saw  this  troop  of  people,  they  descended  from  the  hil 
lock,  and,  sticking  spurs  into  their  horses,  made  up  to  them. 
On  their  arrival,  they  asked  what  was  the  matter.  They  were 
answered  that  it  was  the  king  of  France,  who  had  been  made 
prisoner,  and  that  upwards  of  ten  knights  and  squires  chal 
lenged  him  at  the  same  time  as  belonging  to  each  of  them. 
The  two  barons  then  pushed  through  the  crowd  by  main  force 
and  ordered  all  to  draw  aside.  They  commanded,  in  the  name 


396  THE    KNIGHTS    OF   ENGLISH   HISTORY. 

of  the  prince  and  under  pain  of  instant  death,  that  every  one 
should  keep  his  distance,  and  not  approach  unless  ordered  or 
desired  so  to  do.  They  all  retreated  behind  the  king ;  and  the 
two  barons,  dismounting,  advanced  to  the  king  with  profound 
reverence,  and  conducted  him  in  a  peaceable  manner  to  the 
prince  of  Wales. 

Soon  after  the  earl  of  Warwick  and  the  lord  Reginald  Cob- 
ham  had  left  the  prince,  as  has  been  above  related,  he  inquired 
from  those  knights  around  him  of  lord  James  Audley,  and 
asked  if  any  one  knew  what  was  become  of  him.  "  Yes,  sir," 
replied  some  of  the  company,  "  he  is  very  badly  wounded,  and 
is  lying  in  a  litter  hard  by."  "  By  my  troth,"  replied  the 
prince,  "I  am  sore  vexed  that  he  is  so  wounded.  See,  I  beg  of 
you,  if  he  be  able  to  bear  being  carried  hither ;  otherwise  I 
will  come  and  visit  him."  Two  knights  directly  left  the 
prince,  and,  coining  to  lord  James,  told  him  how  desirous  the 
prince  was  of  seeing  him.  "A  thousand  thanks  to  the  prince," 
answered  lord  James,  "for  condescending  to  remember  so  poor 
a  knight  as  myself."  He  then  called  eight  of  his  servants  and 
had  himself  borne  in  his  litter  to  where  the  prince  was.  When 
he  was  come  into  his  presence,  the  prince  bent  down  over  him 
and  embraced  him,  saying,  "  My  lord  James,  I  am  bound  to 
honor  you  very  much,  for  by  your  valor  this  day  you  have  ac 
quired  glory  and  renown  above  us  all,  and  your  prowess  has 
proved  you  the  bravest  knight."  Lord  James  replied,  "My 
lord,  you  have  a  right  to  say  whatever  you  please,  but  I  wish 
it  were  as  you  have  said.  If  I  have  this  day  been  forward  to 
serve  you  it  has  been  to  accomplish  a  vow  that  I  had  made, 
and  ought  not  to  be  so  much  thought  of."  "  Sir  James," 
answered  the  prince,  "  I  and  all  the  rest  of  us  deem  you  the 
bravest  knight  on  our  side  in  this  battle;  and  to  increase  your 
renown  and  furnish  you  withal  to  pursue  your  career  of 
glory  in  war,  I  retain  you  henceforward  forever  as  my  knight, 
with  five  hundred  marcs  of  yearly  revenue,  which  I  will  secure 
to  you  from  my  estates  in  England."  "  Sir,"  said  lord  James, 
"God  make  me  deserving  of  the  good  fortune  you  bestow  upon 
me."  At  these  words  he  took  leave  of  the  prince,  as  he  was 
very  weak,  and  his  servants  carried  him  back  to  his  tent.  He 


EDWARD    THE    BLACK    PRINCE.  397 

could  not  have  been  at  a  great  distance  when  the  earl  of  War 
wick  and  lord  Reginald  Cobham  entered  the  pavilion  of  the 
prince  and  presented  the  king  of  France  to  him.  The  prince 
made  a  very  low  obeisance  to  the  king  and  gave  him  as  much 
comfort  as  he  was  able,  which  lie  well  knew  how  to  administer. 
He  ordered  wine  and  spices  to  be  brought,  which  he  presented 
to  the  king  himself,  as  a  mark  of  great  affection. 

Thus  was  this  battle  won,  as  you  have  heard  related,  in  the 
plains  of  Maupertuis,  two  leagues  from  the  city  of  Poitiers,  on 
the  19th  day  of  September,  1356.  It  commenced  about  nine 
o'clock  and  was  ended  by  noon  ;  but  the  English  were  not  all 
returned  from  the  pursuit,  and  it  was  to  recall  his  people  that 
the  prince  had  placed  his  banner  upon  a  high  bush.  They  did 
not  return  till  late  after  vespers  from  pursuing  the  enemy.  It 
was  reported  that  all  the  flower  of  French  knighthood  was 
slain,  and  that,  with  the  king  and  his  son  the  lord  Philip, 
seventeen  earls,  without  counting  barons,  knights,  or  squires, 
were  made  prisoners,  and  from  five  to  six  thousand  of  all  sorts 
left  dead  in  the  field.  When  they  were  all  collected,  they 
found  they  had  twice  as  many  prisoners  as  themselves.  They 
therefore  consulted,  if,  considering  the  risk  they  might  run,  it 
would  not  be  more  advisable  to  ransom  them  on  the  spot. 
This  was  done ;  and  the  prisoners  found  the  English  and 
Gascons  very  civil ;  for  there  were  many  set  at  liberty  that  day 
on  their  promise  of  coming  to  Bordeaux  before  Christmas  to 
pay  their  ransom. 

When  all  were  returned  to  their  banners,  they  retired  to 
their  camp,  which  was  adjoining  to  the  field  of  battle.  Some 
disarmed  themselves  and  did  the  same  to  their  prisoners,  to 
whom  they  showed  every  kindness;  for  whoever  made  any 
prisoners  they  were  solely  at  his  disposal  to  ransom  or  not,  as 
he  pleased.  It  may  be  easily  supposed  that  all  those  who 
accompanied  the  prince  were  very  rich  in  glory  and  wealth,  as 
well  by  the  ransoms  of  his  prisoners  as  by  the  quantities  of  gold 
and  silver  plate,  rich  jewels,  and  trunks  stuffed  full  of  belts 
that  were  weighty  from  their  gold  and  silver  ornaments 
and  furred  mantles.  They  set  no  value  on  armor,  tents,  or 
other  things ;  for  the  French  had  come  there  as  magnificently 


398  THE    KNIGHTS    OF    ENGLISH   HISTORY. 

and  richly  dressed  as  if  they  had  been  sure  of  gaining  the 
victory. 

When  the  lord  James  Audley  was  brought  back  to  his  tent 
after  having  most  respectfully  thanked  the  prince  for  his  gift, 
he  did  not  remain  long  before  he  sent  for  his  brother,  Sir  Peter 
Audley,  and  some  more.  They  were  all  of  his  relations.  He 
then  sent  for  his  four  squires  that  had  attended  upon  him  that 
day,  and,  addressing  himself  to  the  knights,  said  :  "  Gentlemen, 
it  has  pleased  my  lord  the  prince  to  give  me  five  hundred 
marcs  as  a  yearly  inheritance,  for  which  gift  I  have  done  him 
very  trifling  bodily  service.  You  see  here  these  four  squires 
who  have  always  served  me  most  loyally,  and  especially  in  this 
day's  engagement.  What  glory  I  may  have  gained  has  been 
through  their  means  and  by  their  valor,  on  which  account  I 
wish  to  reward  them.  I  therefore  give  and  resign  into  their 
hands  the  gift  of  five  hundred  marcs  which  my  lord  the  prince 
has  been  pleased  to  bestow  on  me,  in  the  same  form  and  man 
ner  that  it  has  been  presented  to  me.  I  disinherit  myself  of  it 
and  give  it  to  them  simply  and  without  a  possibility  of  revok 
ing  it."  The  knights  looked  on  each  other,  and  said,  "It  is 
becoming  the  noble  mind  of  lord  James  to  make  such  a  gift ;  " 
and  then  unanimously  added  :  "  May  the  Lord  God  remember 
you  for  it !  We  will  bear  witness  of  this  gift  to  them  where 
soever  and  whensoever  they  may  call  upon  us."  They  then 
took  leave  of  him,  when  some  went  to  the  prince  of  Wales, 
who  that  night  was  to  give  a  supper  to  the  king  of  France  from 
his  own  provisions ;  for  the  French  had  brought  vast  quantities 
with  them,  which  were  now  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  Eng 
lish,  many  of  whom  had  not  tasted  bread  for  the  last  three 
days. 

When  evening  was  come,  the  prince  of  Wales  gave  a  supper 
in  his  pavilion  to  the  king  of  France  and  to  the  greater  part  of 
the  princes  and  barons  who  were  prisoners.  The  prince 
seated  the  king  of  France  and  his  son  the  lord  Philip  at  an 
elevated  and  well-covered  table ;  and  with  them  were  some 
other  French  lords  of  high  rank.  The  other  knights  and 
squires  were  placed  at  different  tables.  The  prince  himself 
served  the  king's  table,  as  well  as  the  others,  with  every  mark 


EDWARD    THE    BLACK    PRINCE.  399 

of  humility,  and  would  not  sit  down  at  it,  in  spite  of  all  his 
entreaties  for  him  to  do  so,  saying  that  he  was  not  worthy  of 
such  an  honor,  nor  did  it  appertain  to  him  to  seat  himself  at 
the  table  of  so  great  a  king  or  of  so  valiant  a  man  as  he  had 
shown  himself  by  his  actions  that  day.  He  added  also,  with  a 
noble  air:  "Dear  sir,  do  not  make  a  poor  meal  because  the 
Almighty  God  has  not  gratified  your  wishes  in  the  event  of  this 
day ;  for  be  assured  that  my  lord  and  father  will  show  you 
every  honor  and  friendship  in  his  power,  and  will  arrange  for 
your  ransom  so  reasonably  that  you  will  henceforward  always  re 
main  friends.  In  my  opinion,  you  have  cause  to  be  glad  that  the 
success  of  this  battle  did  noVturn  out  as  you  desired ;  for  you 
have  this  day  acquired  such  high  renown  for  prowess  that 
you  have  surpassed  all  the  best  knights  on  your  side.  I  do 
not,  dear  sir,  say  this  to  flatter  you,  for  all  those  of  our  side 
who  have  seen  and  observed  the  actions  of  each  party  have 
unanimously  allowed  this  to  be  your  due,  and  decree  you  the 
prize  and  garland  for  it."  At  the  end  of  this  speech  there 
were  murmurs  of  praise  heard  from  every  one ;  and  the 
French  said  the  prince  had  spoken  truly  and  nobly,  and  that 
he  would  be  one  of  the  most  gallant  princes  in  Christendom  if 
God  should  grant  him  life  to  pursue  his  career  of  glory. 


1 1ST  t>  EX. 


Adclanc,  the,  300. 

JEneas,  28. 

Agrivain,  70,  86,  174. 

Albion,  27. 

Alencon,  Due  d',  381. 

Alexander,  24. 

Allemannus,  27. 

Alyduke,  81. 

Ambrosias,  41. 

Argius,  king  of  Ireland,  110. 

Armor,  18. 

Armorica,  18. 

Arthur,  21,  24;  historical  evidences  of, 
38;  story  of,  42;  slays  the  giant  of 
St.  Michael's  Mount,  58 ;  obtains  Ex- 
calibur,  60,  144,  147,  150,  175;  re 
ceived  by  the  three  queens,  187  ;  his 
epitaph,  188,  200 ;  seeks  Owain,  215, 
223,  280,  293,  298. 

"As  You  Like  It,"  quoted,  253. 

Ascanius,  28. 

Audley,  Lord  James,  389,  393,  396. 

Audret,  113. 

Avaon,  quoted,  199. 

Badger  in  the  Bag,  256. 
Bagdemagus,  78,  153. 
Baldwin  cle  Carreo,  330. 
Ban,  king,  43. 
Bedivere,  185,  191. 
Bedouins,  225. 
Bedwyr,  294. 
Belenus,  34. 

Bendigeid,  Vran,  259,  268. 
Bishop  of  Hereford  and  his  entertain 
ment  by  Robin  Hood,  350. 
Bladud,  31. 


Blaanor,  110. 

Bohort,  43,  75,  102;  in  quest  of  the 
Sangreal,  160 ;  fights  with  his  brother 
Lionel,  163,  167;  at  Joyeuse  Garde, 
177 ;  seeks  Sir  Launcelot,  189. 

Bohemia,  the  blind  king  of,  at  Poitiers, 
385. 

Boiardo,  quoted,  113. 

Boy  and  the  Mantle,  the,  65. 

Brademagus,  93. 

Brandeles,  81,  86, 

Branwen,  259. 

Brengwain,  111,  127. 

Brennus,  34. 

Breuse  sans  Pitie',  123,  128. 

Brice,  Bishop,  43. 

Britons,  195. 

Britto,  27. 

Brune,  Robert  de,  23. 

Brutus,  28. 

Bryan,  81. 

Cad  or,  64. 

Caerleon,  note  on,  55. 
Calidore,  137. 
Camelot,  note  on,  55. 
Caradoc,  63,  264,  267. 
Carlisle,  41 ;  note  on,  55. 
Carracois,  333. 
Cassibellaunus,  35. 
Charlemagne,  21,  24. 
Chandos,  Sir  John,  391,  394. 
Chaucer,  quoted,  72. 
Chevy  Chase,  362. 
Chivalry,  14. 
Clerks,  17. 
Clifton,  355. 

401 


402 


INDEX. 


Colgrevance,  163. 
Constans,  41. 
Cordelia,  32,  283. 
Cordivi,  335. 
Crecy,  380. 

Crusade,  the  Third,  319. 
Curtal  Friar,  347. 
Cymbeline,  36. 
Cyprus,  320. 

Daguenet,  126. 

David,  24. 

Denys  de  Morbcque,  394. 

Diana,  29. 

Dillus  Varwawc,  290,  296. 

Douglas,    Earl,    362,    370;   death    of, 

378. 

Drayton,  quoted,  44,  343. 
Dremhidydd,  quoted,  199. 

Edeyrn,  230. 

Edward  the  Black  Prince,  380. 

Elaine,  100,  150. 

Eliaures,  64. 

Elidure,  34. 

Elphin,  308. 

Enid  and  Geraint,  231,236;  receives 
the  stag's  head,  237 ;  rides  with  Ge 
raint,  243 ;  her  character,  257. 

Erbin,  242. 

Etlym  Gleddyv  Coch,  303. 

Eustace  de  Ribeaumout,  386. 

Evnissyen,  259. 

Excalibur,  42. 

Ferrex,  53. 

Flollo,  54. 

France,  King  of:  at  Crecy,  331;  cap 
tured  at  Poitiers,  393. 
Francus,  27. 

Frederick  Barbarossa,  317. 
Freeman,  17. 
Friar  Tuck,  346. 
Froissart,  376. 

Gaheris,  79,  125,  175. 
Gaharet,  70. 

Galahad,  150,  167 ;  his  death,  169. 
Galleron,  132. 


Galynde,  81. 

Garett,  70,  175. 

Garsilet,  quoted,  199. 

Gast  Rhymi,  290,  296. 

Gawain,  47,  52  ;  his  parentage,  70  ; 
marriage,  70,  82,  91,  102,  125,  134, 
136,  149,  153,  174;  his  battle  with 
Launcelot,  180;  his  adventure  with 
the  Lady  of  the  Fountain,  214;  his 
death,  183. 

Gawl,  son  of  Clud,  255,  277. 

Genoese  archers,  381. 

Geoffrey  de  Vinsaut,  quoted,  324. 

Geoffrey  of  Monmouth,  21. 

George  a  Green,  234. 

Geraint,  222,  and  Enid,  231,  236,  243. 

Glass  windows,  242. 

Godfrey  of  Boulogne,  24. 

Goneril,  31. 

Gouvernail,  106,  121. 

Gray,  quoted,  196,  198. 

Guenever,  49,  86,  141, 174 ;  condemned 
to  death,  176,  200;  goes  to  see  the 
hunt,  223. 

Guest,  Lady  Charlotte,  26. 

Gurhyr  Gwalstat,  281,  293. 

Guy,  king  of  Jerusalem,  324. 

Gwernach  the  Giant,  290,  291. 

Gwydno  Gwanhir,  305. 

Ham's  Port,  note  on,  55. 

Hector,  24. 

Hector  de  Marys,  81,  82,  97,  102,  120; 
at  Joyeuse  Garde,  177 ;  seeks  Launce 
lot,  189,  101. 

Helen,  74. 

Henry,  Count  of  Champagne,  325. 

Heveydd,  254. 

Heveyd  Hir,  260. 

Holy  Cross,  the,  323. 

Holy  Grail,  the,  47, 135  (see  Sangreal). 

Holy  Land,  the,  319. 

Hospitallers,  324 ;  Master  of  the,  329, 
330. 

Igerne,  4L 

Ironside,  86. 

Isoude  the  Fair,  108,  127. 

Isoude  of  the  White  Hands.  134. 


INDEX. 


403 


James  d'Avennes,  530. 

Joppa,  335. 

Joseph  of  Ariinathea,  148,  150,  169. 

Joshua,  24. 

Judas  Maccabaeus,  24.  ^ 

Julius  Csesar,  24.  % 

Kadyriaeth,  233,  239. 

Katherine,  Queen,  353. 

Kay,  43;  note  on,  54,  81,  86,  94,   110, 

141,  146,  200,  282,  292,  294. 
Kicva,  272. 
Kilwich,  279. 
King  of  North  Wales,  78. 
Kirkley  Hall,  360. 

Knight  Errant,  14;  education  of,  15. 
Knight  of  the  Sparrowhawk,  228. 
Kyurn,  205,  215. 

La  Joyeuse  Garde,  105,  176. 

Lady  of  the  Lake,  46,  60. 

Ladynas  of  the  Forest  Savage,  86. 

Laodegan,  49. 

Launcelot,  52;  parentage,  74;  adven 
ture  of  the  cart,  86 ;  and  the  Lady  of 
Shalott,  95 ;  saves  Queen  Guene- 
ver,  101,  125 ;  in  quest  of  the  San- 
greal,  154,  165;  and  Guenever,  174; 
battle  with  Gawain,  180;  seeks  Queen 
Guenever,  189;  death  of,  191. 

Lear,  31,  283. 

Lionel,  75,  81,  102,  161 ;  fights  with  his 
brother  Bohort,  163 ;  at  La  Joyeuse 
Garde,  177. 

Little  John,  343,  345,  360;  and  the 
Bishop  of  Hereford,  387. 

Lleuleaug,  quoted,  199. 

Lloyd,  277- 

Llywarch,  quoted,  199. 

Lucau,  183. 

Lucius  Tiberius,  58, 

Lud,  35. 

Limed,  211,  220. 

Mabon,  294. 

Madoc,  223. 

Mador,  102. 

Mallory,  Sir  Thomas,  quoted,  192. 

Manawyddan,  259,  266,  268. 


March  and  Dunbar,  Earl  of,  370. 

Mark,  King  of  Cornwall,  107,  118. 

Matholk,  260. 

Meleagaus,  87. 

Meliadus,  106. 

Meiielones,  335. 

Meneu,  284. 

Merlin,  41 ;  story  of,  44,  49,  60. 

Mestocus,  323. 

Milton,  quoted,  27,  30. 

Modred,  39,  182 ;  death  of,  30. 

Moines,  41. 

Molmutius,  34. 

Montgomery,  Sir  Hugh,  368. 

Morauut,  107,  126. 

Moray,  Earl  of,  370. 

Much  the  Miller's  Son,  343,  356. 

Neptune,  27. 
Nissiyen,  259. 
Nottinghamshire,  354. 

Olwen,  279. 

Otterbourne,  370  ;  the  battle  of,  375. 

Owain  and  Perceval,  140, 143,  200,206; 

and  the  lion,  219. 
Owen,  quoted,  40. 
Ozanna  le  Cure  Hardy,  86. 

Palamedes,  168,  112,  124,  131,  177. 

Pecheur,  King,  145,  149. 

Pelenore,  140. 

Pelleas,  86. 

Peudragon,  45. 

Perceval,  youth  of,  139 ;  in  quest  of  the 

Sangreal,  154, 157, 167 ;  death  of,  170 

(see  Peredur). 
Percy,  Earl,  362,  370. 
Percy's  Reliques,  quoted,  69,  362,  370. 
Peredur,  298  (see  Perceval). 
Perigord,  Cardinal,  387. 
Perilous  Seat,  126. 
Perseant  of  Inde,  86. 
Phelot,  83. 
Pheredur,  119. 
Philip  Augustus,  319,  323. 
Porrex,  33. 
Pryderi,  266,  268. 
Pwyll,  252,  268. 


404 


INDEX. 


Queen  Morgane  le  Fay,  77. 
Queen  of  the  Isles,  77. 
Queen  of  Eastland,  77. 
Queen  of  North  Wales,  77. 

Regan,  32. 

Reginald  Cobham,  383,  397. 

Rhiannou,  254,  268. 

Rhun,  311. 

Richard  of  Devizes,  quoted,  324. 

Richard  I.  of  England,  319;  at  Cyprus, 

320 ;   at  the  siege  of  Acre,  322 ;   in 

battle  with  the  Saracens,  324,  330; 

attacked  by  Saracens,  336. 
Ripon,  quoted,  343. 
Robin  Hood,  343,  350 ;  and  the  beggar, 

356;  and  King  ^Richard,  358;  death 

of,  360. 
Round  Table,  126. 

Sagraraore  le  Desirus,  82,  86. 
Saffire,  177. 
Saladin,  335,  342. 
Sangreal,  145,  148,  155,  168. 
Scarlock,  343. 

Scott,  Sir  Walter,  quoted.  ilO 
Shalott,  Lady  of,  96. 
pate  on,  55. 


Sherwood  Forest,  343. 

Silk  in  the  Middle  Ages,  210. 

Southey,  quoted,  278. 

Spenser,  quoted,  30,  37,  48,  137,  138. 

Stukely,  quoted,  347. 

Stukely,  William,  346. 

Taliesin,  197;    quoted,  213,  216,  308; 

his  poems,  309,  319,  314. 
Templars,  324. 
Tennyson,  quoted,  40,  44,  49,  98,  139, 

148*(Sir  Galahad),  171,  182. 

Uther,  41,  45. 
Uwaine,  82,  151. 

Vivien,  46,  74,  118. 
Vortigerne,  41,  45. 

Welsh,  bards,  197. 

language  and  literature,  196. 

people,  195. 

Wharton,  quoted,  39. 
Witherington,  365,  368. 

Ynywl,  Earl,  231. 
Yspadaden  Penkawr,  280. 


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